


The Greatest International Love Story the World Has Ever Seen

by MalMuses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Castiel does GISH, Co-workers, Comedy of Errors, Costumes, Dean does GISH, Dean/Cas Pinefest 2019, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone does GISH, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, GISHWHES, Glitter, Humor, Knitter Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, Mutual Pining, Optional Smut - Skippable Chapter, Pining, Professor Castiel, Smart Dean Winchester, TA Dean Winchester, Two Person Love Triangle, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalMuses/pseuds/MalMuses
Summary: Dean wasn’t the type of person who did this kind of thing. He just wasn’t.GISH??Ugh. The whole thing was just further proof that Dean would do anything his brother wanted him to do. Why else would he be in a Stormtrooper costume, calling up his ex-girlfriend for a private yoga class? Had he been stuck in a rut that long? Given that he’d been pining for the same freakin’ guy, his professor and coworker no less, for three long years… maybe.Cas was definitely the type of person who did this kind of thing, not that many people knew that. He was one of the most well-respected professors at KSU. His students and coworkers didn’t need to know that he was captain of a GISH team, or that he knitted kinky accessories and made art with his online friends. His TA certainly didn’t need to know either. Just professionalism, of course. Nothing at all to do with the failed attempt at a relationship, three years of pining, and frequent inappropriate daydreams.A two-person love triangle with online friendships, costumes, and a lot of glitter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that I had in mind for a long time, ever since I wrote my first AU where I used the two-person love triangle trope, Mi Casa es tu Casa. When I realized that it would fit for [Pinefest](http://deancaspinefest.tumblr.com/) fic... well, there was no turning back. 
> 
> Let's make these idiots PINE!
> 
> Sometimes a fic takes a family, so here are some wonderful people that I must mention.
> 
> [a_dusky_gold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dusky_gold/pseuds/a_dusky_gold), alpha/beta maestro. Sometimes a second pair of eyes makes ALL the difference.
> 
> [andimeantittosting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting), beta extraordinaire. Sorry about the commas, the run on sentences, the shifting timeline issues! You are so patient, sting. Thanks! <3
> 
> jscribbles, who screamed about this fic until I finished it.
> 
> Dr. Porcupine Girl, who is the whole reason I used this trope.
> 
> mittens and Cass, who aren't just wonderful mods, but also amazing, encouraging human beings.
> 
> I guess I should thank Overlord Misha Collins for creating GISH, but honestly, that's probably the Stockholm Syndrome talking.
> 
> The biggest thanks, of course, have to go to [blueeyesandpie. ](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Blueeyesandpie is the artist I was lucky enough to get paired with for this challenge. I was blown away by her talent, her enthusiasm, and just how freakin' awesome she is. Lucky doesn't cut it, but its the only word I have. Please find her [on tumblr here.](https://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
>  
> 
> **Notes:**
> 
>  
> 
> This fic was personal to me and was written as a celebration of GISH, of fandom, of discord, and of friends. You may recognize some names in this fic if you happen to know me; please rest assured that these are caricatures of people, and although the behavior (for example, excessive squeeing) that you see in the fic does happen, it is certainly not all these folks are. 
> 
> For ease of reading, some small liberties have been taken with GISH--particularly with social media, and with Discord, Real Life, and [Redacted]. You have been warned ;) 
> 
> This fic is really just supposed to be fun. But please, if you spot something I haven't tagged, [hop over to tumblr](https://malmuses.tumblr.com/) and let me know.
> 
> \- Mal <3

“Bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath. Whatever it was that he had squirted onto his toothbrush and shoved, innocent and unthinking, into his mouth? Yeah, that was most definitely not toothpaste.

Rinsing his tongue and pulling a horrified face, Dean grabbed the violently green, extra-strength, peppermint mouthwash. He usually kept it on hand for severe hangover-breath and days he went to the dentist, but helping him recover from pranks was swiftly added to its uses.

He stuck his head out of the bathroom door, scowling as he yelled, “Sammy! What the hell did you do to my toothpaste!?”

Dean could hear the howling laughter from the other end of the apartment without even stepping out into the small hallway between the bathroom and the two bedrooms. After only a moment, Sam appeared from the direction of the kitchen, still chuckling to himself.

“I never get tired of hearing you screech like a little girl, Dean.” Sam grinned, leaning against the bathroom door frame as Dean returned to the sink. “It was wasabi toothpaste. Serves you right for putting saran wrap over the toilet seat yesterday,” he added.

“You’ve only been back in town a week,” Dean grumbled, pausing to gargle unnecessarily loudly with the mouthwash before he spat it into the sink. “One of these days we’re going to kill each other.”

“Nah.” Sam grinned wider. “You’re just afraid I’m going to win.”

“Prank wars are hardly fair when you have Gabriel on your side, jerk,” Dean said, swiping at his mouth with the hand towel. “And speaking of, how long is that blond disaster going to be taking over my apartment?”

Sam sighed, shrugging the shoulder he wasn’t using to support himself on the door frame. “Until he finds his own place, I guess, or until Kali takes him back.”

“Who’d have thought that the beautiful, successful military contractor would kick out the overgrown child who graduated law school with a 4.0, and then put all his money into a porn franchise!” Dean said in mock amazement. “I bet she can’t wait to take him back.”

Sam scowled. “Hey, he’s still my best friend. Chill.”

Dean sighed. “I’ll chill if you can keep the pranks until after I’m done with school, at least. I still have another couple weeks of classes to get through. I said I’d stay and help until the new person came in for the fall semester.”

Dean walked out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen of the cramped apartment, Sam following close behind.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing once you’re free, Dean? Have you talked about it with Cas?” Sam questioned, leaning back on the counter as Dean began to hunt for breakfast. “Did you tell him you don’t have a job to go to yet? He might keep you as a TA for another year if you just tell him.”

“Professor Novak is far too busy to chat about what a disaster I am at interviews,” Dean answered firmly, keeping his eyes decidedly inside the fridge.

Sam rolled his eyes heavenward. “Sure, Dean. It’s nothing to do with you avoiding talking to him for the past three years, then?”

“Nope,” Dean answered tightly. “Nothing to do with that at all.”

Slamming the fridge, Dean grabbed his messenger bag from the back of the couch as he headed toward the door.

“Nothing but your freaky yogurt and fruit in there,” he complained. “I’ll grab breakfast from the cafe. Gotta stop and get Cas’s coffee anyway.”

Tapping his pocket to make sure he had his keys, Dean pulled the front door tight, shutting Sam’s protests into the apartment behind him.

Sam had only been back from Stanford for eight days, and as much as Dean adored his brother, he did miss the relative solitude he’d enjoyed during the school year.

Or at least, he told himself it was the solitude he missed, and not that when Sam wasn’t around, no one called him out over the Cas thing.

“The Cas Thing,” as all of Dean’s friends called it, was in the past, Dean reminded himself. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be a little more friendly with the professor he assisted. He knew that Cas wouldn’t mind it; the quirky English Lit professor had tried often enough to start up conversations when Dean first became his assistant at the beginning of the year. In fact, Cas had been the one to persuade Dean that he even had the smarts to be a TA in the first place. Despite their iffy start, Cas had looked out for Dean.

But that was mostly  _ why _ Dean still struggled to speak to him.

When Dean had started in Cas’s class, they’d hit it off immediately. Dean was years older than anyone else in the group and he’d been drawn much more into discussion with the professor than with any of the students, though they all seemed nice enough. After a few weeks getting closer and closer, Cas had let him borrow a book, and had told him he’d be delighted if Dean would come over and return it to his house when he was done.

Dean had taken it to be something that it wasn’t—that much had been clear when Cas’s wife had answered the door, with a young teenage boy yelling in the background.

The embarrassment had taken a little while to fade, but Dean was hopeful that he’d handled it well and that Cas hadn’t ever known about the mistake he made. He’d kept every interaction short and professional since then; talking about family, dates, or even hobbies, was pretty much off the table for Dean when it came to Cas.

Unfortunately, now that he was Cas’s TA and about to graduate, Dean’s crush on the professor hadn’t so much settled down as been exacerbated by three years of futile pining and frequent contact. It had grown into something that could make a Disney princess proud.

Dean’s friends acted like he should let it go, but in their defense, they’d never seen Cas in a skintight shirt. That field trip had almost killed Dean. Once he’d seen those abs, there was no hope.

Even with a quick detour to the campus café, Dean’s journey to school was short. He was lucky enough to be able to park his precious Impala right next to Cas’s office, in the single spot assigned for TAs, as Cas had no other help besides Dean.

Pausing outside the office to check he had all his papers, Dean realized that he could see the professor’s dark, messy hair through the glass panel in the door, partly hidden behind stacks of grading. He looked like he was slumped on the desk.

“Morning, Cas.” Dean grinned, depositing the black Americano with honey on the cluttered surface.

Cas grunted. He was the only person Dean knew who was even less into mornings than he was.

“Dean.” Cas rumbled the single word slowly in his sexy morning baritone. It was likely the only acknowledgment Dean would get until the coffee was done. Usually, he’d then get a, “thanks,” followed about ten minutes later by a sluggish, “Hello, Dean. How are you?”.

_ Adorable _ , Dean couldn’t help but think, watching the bed-headed professor blink blearily at his paper cup.

Dean began gathering up the handouts and notes for their first class of the day, Freshman English 102, Literature and Composition. Cas always tried to schedule his freshman classes early in the day, because he said they needed “the full college experience” of staggering into class still hungover and trying not to sleep on the desk. Mostly, Dean thought that Cas liked to try and catch out the sleepers and see how much he could make them jump.

He was a good and well-respected professor, though. The students loved him, and not just because he was deadly attractive and kept Alka-Seltzer on hand for hangovers. He was also patient, and kind, and had time for everybody.

“Thanks,” Cas rumbled predictably, reaching the bottom of his coffee.

_ There we go, _ Dean thought to himself, smirking slightly.  _ He’ll be awake in no time. _

Nodding, Dean turned his attention to putting the graded papers in alphabetical order. “You’re welcome, Cas.”

One of the papers slid from the top of the pile. Cas certainly didn’t have the reflexes to catch it before nine a.m., but he did bend down and pick it up for Dean. He stretched over the desk, holding it out wordlessly.

Their fingers brushed as Dean took it from him, and Dean felt his breath catch.

_ Jesus Christ Dean,  _ he berated himself.  _ Are you ever going to stop acting like a fifteen-year-old? Married. Doesn’t want you. Remember? _

Smiling tensely, Dean gathered the stack of sheets and went out to the lecture hall, leaving Cas alone to wake up.

***

Dean dragged his heavy messenger bag across the floor with his foot, tucking it safely under the bar stool. He leaned forward so that his forearms took his weight and tilted his head to call over the bar, “What’s a guy gotta do to get a beer around here?”

“No idea,” Jo called from further up the bar. “I’ve heard manners help, so there’s probably no hope for you.”

Dean grinned as Jo moved down the bar toward him, his beer already in hand.

“Hey Jo,” he greeted her warmly. “How’s business?”

“Same old, same old.” Jo stepped quickly around the edge of the bar to squeeze her arm around Dean’s shoulders. “How’s your fancy book learning?”

Jo had taken over the Roadhouse from her mom Ellen when she’d passed away a couple of years before. A lifelong family friend, she’d watched Dean go from an unqualified mechanic with a penchant for bar fights to a mature student of mid-century literature, with Cas’s help.

Like most of his friends, she teased the hell out of him. But she was proud.

“It’s not going so bad, if you ignore the thirty pounds of grading under my seat,” Dean offered tiredly.

“Novak working you too hard?” Jo raised an eyebrow.

“Always does,” Dean replied before taking a long draw of his beer. “He’s got high standards. He’s mentioned that he might try to take a few days’ vacation soon, too. His brothers are coming into town or something, so he wants us to get all caught up.”

Jo nodded. “Well, the beer is on the house, then. I remember Novak’s classes, all those girls competing to be his favorite.”

Dean snorted in clear agreement. Boy, didn’t he know about that. “Thanks, Jo… and yeah. They hope Cas’ll be looking at their work, but it’s me who ends up with the forty-page essay with hearts doodled in the margins. It’d be flattering if there was even a chance it was meant for me.”

“Oh hush, you,” Jo teased, beginning to wipe the bar top. “You’ve got plenty of game. And twice the dating pool Novak has, too.”

Laughing, Dean dug his hand into the complimentary peanuts. “Not sure that helps when I’m standing next to him.”

“You’re not wrong.” Charlie’s voice came from directly next to Dean as she slipped into her seat. “Jo’s the one for me, but I’m pretty sure even I’d think twice about Cas.” She winked at Jo and blew her an apology kiss across the bar.

Dean glared.

“What Charlie is saying,” Jo said with a tiny, evil grin, “is if Cas happens to be looking for a hot lesbian three-way, tag us in.”

Dean quietly wished he’d choke on a peanut, but he wasn’t so lucky.

“So, did Sam tell you about that crazy thing he’s doing yet?” Charlie turned to Dean, accepting the beer that Jo handed over without question.

“He left me a garbled message about… hunting? Or something?” Dean’s brow creased in confusion. “Honestly, I assumed he’d been day drinking and ignored him.”

“That’s a fair assumption with Gabriel in town,” Charlie said, “but in this case, he was probably sober. It’s a game, kinda. GISH—Greatest International Scavenger Hunt.”

“Isn’t Sam a little old for a scavenger hunt?” Dean raised his eyebrow. “He’s supposed to be staying here while he waits for the results of his bar exam, not playing kids’ games,” he groused.

Charlie banged her elbow into Dean’s side with a glare. “He’s doing it to cheer up Gabriel, doofus. And it’s for adults, too.”

Dean eyed Charlie skeptically.

“Really,” she reiterated. “I looked it up online. It looks hella fun.”

“But I’ve got to finish assisting Cas’s summer classes,” Dean reminded her, “or I won’t get my TA stipend at the end of the month.”

Charlie shrugged. “If Novak can take a couple of days off, why can’t you? Ask him.”

Dean eyed Charlie levelly, placing his almost empty beer glass down on the bar so that he could direct his full suspicion towards her. “Why, Charlie?”

Her shoulders slumped slightly and she rolled her eyes. “Fine. It’d be good for you, Dean.”

“Good for me?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Good for you,” Charlie repeated. “You need to get out of your apartment and do things.”

“What do you call this?” Dean gestured around the bar in exasperation.

Jo moved back down the bar as if she’d been listening all along and leaned onto the counter in front of Dean. “She calls this hanging out in the same bar, with the same two friends, for the past ten years, Dean. Not to mention pining over the hot prof for years, too.”

Charlie made a cheesy finger-guns motion at Jo, but it didn’t make the truth sting any less.

“You’re both bitches.”

“Indeed,” Charlie agreed solemnly. “Terrible, awful, caring-about-you bitches.”

“I’m not doing a scavenger hunt with Sam and Gabriel,” Dean replied firmly. “They’d drive me crazy. They’re going to drive each other crazy.”

“You don’t even have to be on their team, Dean,” Charlie responded persuasively. “At least promise me you’ll look it up?”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “If it’s so great why aren’t you doing it?”

“I start my new job that week.” Charlie sighed. “So, I won’t get to put any of my craft supplies or cosplays to good use during those days, sadly.”

They chattered on for another twenty minutes, discussing Charlie’s new position at Sandover Inc. as a data security manager and Jo’s plans for the Roadhouse bar now that her younger brother Ash had moved to California for school. It was easy and familiar, and the more they chatted about the dull, day-to-day of life, the more Dean realized that Charlie was, unfortunately, right.

It wasn’t that he’d avoided dating or trying anything new. He just hadn’t wanted to, for a long time. It was a little embarrassing how much he was hung up on Cas, and he could tell that all of his friends knew. He was fairly sure a scavenger hunt wasn’t what he needed, though. Maybe a dating app or a new hobby—something that didn’t involve as much glitter as this “hunt” thing seemed to. 

***

“So, you’re going to be okay if I go out?” Sam checked for the third time.

“Yes, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes. “I live alone most of the year, remember? I think I’ll cope with you going on one date.”

Sam held his hands up defensively. “Alright, sorry for checking.”

Dean sighed. He knew he was grumpy and it wasn’t Sam’s fault. Reclining on the brown, lumpy couch that had once belonged to Uncle Bobby, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and pulled the huge stack of grading closer.

“Just going to be me and my big red pen tonight,” Dean offered more lightly. “Where’s Gabriel at?”

“Who knows.” Sam shrugged, but he looked sad even while his tone was dismissive. “Probably blasting love songs at Kali’s window on a boombox again.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Dean grimaced.

“Not according to Kali.”

“Ouch. That’s just sad. Gabriel needs a distraction. I totally refuse to actually start feeling sorry for him—there’s something inherently wrong with that,” Dean mused.

Sam merely grunted, ducking down a couple of inches to button up the collar of his shirt in Dean’s hallway mirror.

Gabriel and Sam had been friends for years, a solid case of opposites attracting if Dean had ever seen one. He knew that it was hurting Sam, on some level, to see his best and most constant companion in so much pain. Kali and Gabriel had been together for so long, no one had even believed Gabriel when he first said that Kali had kicked him out. Watching the vivacious, relentless man pine for his lost love was tragic.

“So, who’s the girl?” Dean asked, shaking off his thoughts and turning his head to judge his younger brother’s ensemble.

“Her name is Eileen. I met her at the library. I think she lives in this building, actually.”

“The short chick on the ground floor? Brunette, kinda sassy, deaf? She’s pretty,” Dean noted, nodding his approval.

“Yeah,” Sam smiled into the mirror in agreement. “She just finished a thesis on some kind of ancient Irish tribe. She’s really interesting.”

Dean smiled as he pulled the first paper onto his lap, uncapping his pen. “Sounds like the perfect nerd for you. Go get ‘er, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that, Dean,” Sam called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. “Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old!”

“You’re still a chubby twelve-year-old,” Dean muttered down to his lap as he scrawled a grade on the corner of the paper. “Just stretched.”

Relaxing into his pile of essays once the apartment was quiet, Dean made pretty quick work of the grading. Cas’s students were generally attentive and easy to work with. Each year there were a couple that struggled, but for the most part, everyone excelled in his classes. Dean attributed it almost as much to Cas’s excellent teaching methods as he did to his huge blue eyes.

Once he’d finished, Dean relaxed against the couch pillows and wondered how to spend the rest of his evening. Charlie and Jo were out together, and he didn’t want to be the third-wheel friend. Sam was on his date, and even Gabriel was out… somewhere. Doing something. Most likely something Dean didn’t want to know about.

Sighing, Dean pulled his laptop over from the coffee table and settled it on his thighs.

He stared at Google for a few minutes, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

With a resigned sigh, he typed: Greatest International Scavenger Hunt Registration. 


	2. Chapter 2

Cas enjoyed Anna’s cooking, for the most part. Except for the excessively green bits, and the excessively burnt bits, and the bits she forgot to cook quite all the way through. Other than those, he liked her cooking just fine.

He appreciated the fact that she nearly always cooked for him; she was, technically, still a house guest, even if she'd been here a few years now. Her vendetta against dairy, and fat, and basically anything delicious… that, he didn't appreciate quite so much.

Anna said he was just fussy, but watching his nephew Jack eat from across the small dinner table, Cas felt vindicated.

“Jack,” Anna said patiently, “I see you hiding those green beans under that mashed potato. Eat them, please.”

Jack wrinkled up his nose, pouting. “Uncle Cas doesn’t make me eat beans,” he pointed out petulantly.

“That’s because Uncle Cas thinks humans can survive on burgers alone. Eat up, please.” Anna pointed with her fork. “Every last one.”

When the teenager finally dropped his gaze back to his plate, Anna threw a sharp glare at Cas. He froze, hoping she wouldn't notice that he was also sliding his green beans under his mashed potato. Trying to shift the conversation well away from the food, Cas smiled innocently.

“How was your day, Anna?”

“Boring. Insurance still doesn’t sell itself, sadly. More interested in your day, though—your phone rang three times while you were still trying to get from the bathroom to the front door, this morning.”

“Ahh.” Cas quirked his sister a crooked smile. “Yes, well. It was the Chancellor of the private college in Idaho that I got that call from a couple of weeks ago.”

Suddenly, the food on Cas’s plate looked a lot more interesting again, and he poked at it with his fork, making little lines in the mashed potatoes.

“Oh?” Anna said.

He knew Anna would wait him out, if he didn’t explain. She’d grown up with five older brothers; she’d learned to lie in wait to get her way.

“He offered me the job. Department Head, substantial raise,” Cas admitted down to plate, refusing to look up at Anna, instead talking to the dried husk of what might have been pork.

“So, why don’t you sound remotely happy about it?” Anna questioned softly, shifting in her seat.

“I just don’t know if I’m ready to leave.” Cas shrugged dismissively. “Maybe I’m not done here. Maybe there’s… more. Or something.”

Anna gave him a long, sad look. “What you mean is, you don’t want to leave Dean.”

Cas looked up sharply, flustered. “That’s not what I—”

“Cas,” Anna put down her fork slowly. “I know it’s not my business. But you’re my brother, and I care about you, so could you just listen to me? For once?”

Cas didn't say anything, which Anna seemed to take as permission to continue. Not that Cas had really had any choice other than listening in the first place.

“It’s been years, Cassie,” Anna said gently, in a tone that indicated she was tip-toeing up to saying exactly what Cas didn't want to hear. “You can hide it all you want, but you’re clearly still holding a candle for that kid.”

“He’s not a _kid_ ,” Cas bristled instantly. “He is thirty-four years old,” he pointed out.

“What he _is_ ,” Anna continued pointedly, “is the guy that practically ghosted you when you tried to make a move.”

“What does ghosted mean?” Jack piped up from between them. Jack may have been a highschooler, but worldly he was not.

“It means that Cas needs to let him go,” Anna answered flatly, picking her fork back up. “Pining after the guy for three years just isn’t healthy,” she added more softly. “You deserve to be happy. With someone who loves you back.”

“But—” Cas cut himself off, shaking his head.

“What?” Anna asked with a small sigh, as if she’d heard it all before.

“There are moments when I think maybe he…” Cas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There are moments, sometimes. That’s all.”

“That’s not enough, Cas,” Anna said firmly. “You deserve more than moments.”

Slowly, abandoning all pretense at eating his food, Cas placed his knife and fork down and nodded.

The table suffered through a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence before Anna began to gather up their plates.

“Come on, Jack. You can help me do the dishes.” She smiled down at the boy, who’s bright blue eyes looked so very much like his uncle’s. Turning her head back to the table, she offered a conciliatory grin. “Hey Cas, didn’t you have a bunch of stuff you wanted to do tonight? Isn’t it the last night to register for GISH?”

Almost instantly, Cas brightened. “Yes,” he responded eagerly, pushing his chair back from the table. “You’re right, it is. Thank you for dinner, Anna,” he offered, allowing a small smile. “And the well-intentioned advice, too.”

Anna disappeared off to the kitchen with Jack, and Cas moved straight to the living room where he’d left his laptop once he’d finished work for the night.

Cas, known to many by his alias of AngelofThursday, had a lot of planning to do.

***

 

> **AngelofThursday:** Hey Team! Is everyone getting ready for the Hunt?!
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** Been waiting all year Angel, you know it!
> 
> **jscribbles:** Got my vacation booked, can’t wait
> 
> **SOBS:** Trying to see what I can get off work. How’ve you been Angel? It’s been a while!
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Same old. Endless students, endless paperwork
> 
> **SOBS:** you love it
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, I do :)
> 
> **PieDarling:** I’m here! Got wrapped up in office drama but I’m down for organization chats!
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** We’re three members down, did you see that, Angel?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, I did.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** GarthVader and BessWolf won’t be joining us this year; they just had their baby. GrumpyAsian has been banned from participating by his mom after last year’s incident with the table saw.
> 
> **jscribbles:** Well fuck, what are we supposed to do without the resident space nerd?
> 
> **jscribbles:** not to mention our sock puppet guy
> 
> **jscribbles:** HOW WILL WE SURVIVE?
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** For once I agree with jscribbles. We need a full team.
> 
> **jscribbles:** That was sarcasm, but we good.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Actually, my sister and nephew are both going to be in town for the whole summer. So they’re going to sign up this year. That only leaves one spot. If no one knows anyone, we can just get someone assigned to us. We’ve got this anyway, right team??
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** Yeah we do!
> 
> **PieDarling:** WE GOT THIS!
> 
> **jscribbles:** YASSSSSS
> 
> **SOBS:** Can’t waaaaait. Time to start stockpiling random crap, y’all!!
> 
> **PieDarling:** GISH has taken over my apartment already. Someone in my building tried to throw away a broken blender and like, I took it?? And I don’t even know why???
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** Wise
> 
> **SOBS:** I have a tattoo appointment waiting. It’s my turn! Hoping it’s something awesome
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I need to review what I have, there’s probably a few trips to the craft store in my future. I should probably start that now, actually. Can you guys stick around for a bit, in case any of the others stop by? I want to make sure we all touch base before the list drops and get organized.
> 
> **jscribbles:**  Of course we can, dude.  Go forth, find glitter. You’re gonna be wearing it for months, so pick the good shit
> 
> **SOBS:** So true
> 
> **PieDarling:** Catch you soon Angel! WE LOVE YOU!!
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** Touch base soon, Captain! We’ve got it till then.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Love you guys too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.

***

Walking to work was always the best option for Cas. No matter how tired he was first thing, or how groggy, he was unlikely to injure himself or anyone else while he was just walking. The same could not be said for a car, or even a bicycle. Dean had offered to pick him up multiple times, but the less time he had to spend with Dean in an enclosed, non-work space, the better.

Not that he didn’t like spending time with Dean, Cas considered. He did, and that was precisely the problem.

He liked Dean far too much, honestly. When Dean had first transferred to the college, they’d hit it off really well, or so Cas had thought. He’d found himself falling hard and fast for the smart-mouthed, funny man. Dean was a mature student and only a few years younger than Cas himself, so it seemed only natural that Dean was drawn more to chat with Cas than with the other students—they were all at least a decade younger than he was, or more.

Cas had tried to make a move. He’d invited Dean back to his place, to spend some time with him off-campus and… see where it went. Alright, it was probably one of the more cowardly moves out there, but he also thought he’d been pretty clear about it. They were both grown men, they’d been flirting since the day they met, and Cas wasn’t known for his subtlety.

But, it didn’t work out how Cas had hoped. He’d never worked out what had happened, why Dean had distanced himself so quickly from him after initially seeming keen. Honestly, Cas was too embarrassed to ask.

He’d never had much luck in his love life. He worked too much, he was kind of weird and quirky and blunt, and people told him all the time he was socially awkward. Cas wasn’t stupid, of course he saw the way students looked at him—but they were all far too young. He just wasn’t even going to consider going there. He liked his job for one thing, and at almost forty, he certainly didn’t have the kind of tastes that made him want to date men who looked that young. So, for three years now, he’d been locked-in to his unforgiving crush on Dean, especially once Dean became his TA. It was hard to get over when they worked together every day and were always so in sync with one another.

But there was always that line that Dean never quite crossed. Cas had given up on asking Dean to come and have a drink with him or grab lunch, even just in a friendly capacity. Dean always had an excuse, and Cas wasn’t that much of an idiot that he couldn’t take a hint.

He might be pathetic, pining for his own TA, but he wasn’t pushy. So, he let Dean have his space.

Nonetheless, his little crush had become, he could admit to himself, the kind of deep, unrequited love that should by rights be confined to novels written by particularly bitter authors. The fact he had a few of those authors on his own syllabus, the numbers increasing by year, didn’t escape his own notice. Cas was a lovesick fool and worse, he knew it. Maybe it made him a better Professor, he sometimes thought, more sympathetic to the intricacies of the heart that such novels presented.

Bullshit. He was just heartbroken coward.

Cas pushed open the heavy door to his office. Dean was already there, ready and waiting with Cas’s coffee in hand. The man was a godsend.

Honestly, getting over Dean would have been many times easier if the man didn’t insist on being so stupidly perfect.

“Dean.” He grunted, as warmly as he could manage, slumping down onto his desk.

The smile his TA gave him was small, but still had the power to turn Cas’s insides to mush, even after three years.

“Hey, Cas. Sleep well?”

“Mmm.”

“You’re practically perky this morning,” Dean teased. “That was almost a whole extra word more than usual.”

“Heh.” Cas didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes, so he just focused on the coffee cup.

Dean always got him the perfect coffee; a piping hot, black americano sweetened with thick swirls of local honey. He knew that the coffee came from the campus café each day, and he also knew that Dean kept a jar of Cas’s favorite honey in his desk and perfected it for him on the mornings when they didn’t make it quite right. It was just one of the many things they never mentioned.

By the time Cas had reached the bottom of the paper cup, he felt a little better.

“Thanks,” he murmured, smiling over at Dean as he sat at the small desk opposite him, organizing all of the registration forms they’d been given for the various extra classes they taught right through the summer, up until college classes themselves restarted again in the fall.

“No problem, Cas,” Dean grinned, thumping enthusiastically down on the stapler in a steady rhythm as he moved methodically through the pile.

It was always the same, every morning in this quiet hour or so before classes started. Just Cas and Dean, chatting quietly (after the coffee kicked in) about work and catching up with their boring admin tasks. It was Cas’s favorite part of the day.

Once the caffeine had had time to work its magic, Dean leaned back in his chair and gave Cas a megawatt smile.

“So, what’s the good mood about?”

“How can you even tell I’m in a good mood?” Cas laughed. “I’ve said barely four words.”

“Three,” Dean corrected. “One of those was definitely a sound, not a word.”

This time, Cas managed to roll his eyes.

“Alright,” Dean acquiesced, pointing across towards Cas’s chest. “You always wear that blue tie, but when you’re having a good day you wear the little bee tie clip.” Dean winked.

Cas blinked. He had no idea Dean paid any attention to his ties. “Oh,” he managed.

Dean laughed at him again. “So, what’s up?”

“Not much,” Cas said carefully. “I’m planning on taking a little bit of vacation the week after next, as I mentioned the other week. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, the week after next? That’s when your brothers are coming to town?”

Cas cringed internally at the little white lie, but he liked to keep his private life and work life separate with Dean, these days. It made it a little easier to work so closely together if he couldn’t fool himself that Dean had any interest beyond that.

He did notice though, that Dean looked a little crestfallen.

“Yes, that’s when they’re coming—is that okay?” Cas’s brow crinkled in confusion. “Will it be a problem for you?”

“No, no, of course not.” Dean shook his head quickly. “You’re the boss, boss.”

“Dean,” Cas reprimanded softly. “You know that’s not how we work. What’s the problem?”

“I was actually just hoping to get a few days off that week too, but it’s okay. I know you’ll need me to help your sub handle your summer classes while you’re out.”

Dean smiled, but Cas could sense his disappointment.

He’d been looking forward to taking the whole week off for GISH most of the year. But he knew that Dean’s younger brother was back in town for the summer and he assumed that Dean would want to spend some time with Sam, after he’d driven all the way to Kansas.

He could easily say no. He could easily pull seniority or tell Dean to pick different dates. That was exactly what Dean expected him to do—after all, he had mentioned it first.

“Don’t be silly, Dean. We’ll make it work. Of course you can have some days off. We’ll split the week.”

 _Great,_ Cas thought dryly to himself. _Now I’m going to spend all of GISH week dancing around Dean and trying to make sure he doesn’t find out I’ve been serving old ladies breakfast in a Stormtrooper costume or that I have a tattoo of the Pope on my thigh. Just great._


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sprawled out on the couch in his boxers, a stretched out old Sabbath t-shirt collecting new stains from the evening’s pizza binge. He had his laptop balanced on his thighs and was staring at his email inbox.

“‘Sup, Dean-o?” Gabriel flopped down onto the couch next to him, kicking his socked feet up onto the coffee table without hesitation. “Your email do something to offend you? Few too many penis enlargement emails for it to be a joke anymore?”

Dean looked at Gabriel from the corner of his eye. “Nothing. Just trying to decide if I need to join this server thing for this GISH stuff or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Sam asked from behind the couch, where he was hurrying along pulling a t-shirt over his head. He reached over the back of the seat to slap Gabriel on the shoulder as he passed. “C’mon, Gabe. We’re gonna be late.”

“I dunno.” Dean shrugged one shoulder. “Do I have to get to know these people?”

Gabriel made no effort to move, sneaking his way into Dean’s pizza box instead.

“You don’t have to,” Sam said, pausing at the edge of the sofa and crossing his arms. “But it will be a lot more fun if you do. The whole point of doing it is to get out there, do some crazy stuff, have some fun and meet some people. Just because you aren’t on the same team as Gabe and me doesn’t mean you have an excuse to lurk and go solo.”

Dean glowered darkly and slunk down on the couch a little more.

Sam threw Gabriel’s shoes down into his lap. “Shift your ass, pintsize. I don’t wanna keep Eileen waiting.”

Groaning dramatically as the shoes landed on his stomach, Gabriel begrudgingly sat up and began to poke his toes rather feebly into the footwear, one of Dean’s pizza crusts cocked in the corner of his mouth.

“Why does Gabriel get to meet Eileen before I do, anyway?” Dean grumbled. “You’ve been seeing her less than two weeks, poor girl.”

“You live in the same building as her, Dean, you’ve already seen her,” Sam retorted, slipping his arms into his jacket. “Besides, you’re my annoying big brother; Gabriel is my best friend. Who would you rather meet?”

“Did you seriously just insinuate I’m more annoying than Gabriel?”

“Big bro has a point, boo. You sure about that?” Gabriel wiggled his blond eyebrows dramatically, flopping back onto the couch once his shoes were tied.

“Come _on,_ ” Sam said desperately once more. “I can’t impress this girl if I can’t even get there on time.”

Gabriel made no effort to move. “Probably better off setting her up for a lifetime of disappointment—”

Gabriel’s words gave way to a strangled yell as Sam gave up waiting, moved around to the front of the couch, and bodily grabbed the smaller man out of his seat.

“Bye, Dean,” Sam said calmly, tossing Gabriel over his shoulder like a fireman.

Dean laughed, watching as Gabriel merely slumped and gave up all resistance, dangling over Sam’s broad shoulder like grumpy ragdoll.

“Stay safe, Sam. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Dean called after him.

He could hear Sam snort as he went down the hall.

Reaching back into his pizza box and finding it suddenly empty, Dean cursed under his breath. All he wanted was a good reason to put off meeting these GISH people. Was that too much to ask?

Sighing, he flicked his fingers across the trackpad to reopen the welcome email he’d been sent by the captain of the team he’d been assigned to. Sam and Gabriel’s team was already full (and he was unconvinced he could share a team with Gabriel without killing him) so Dean had been assigned to some other random team who had space.

“Adventuring Angels welcomes you!” the subject of the email read. There was a little spiel about the team, about how inclusive they were and how they came from all over the world, Kansas to Austria. Dean scrolled down a little, finding the link for the discord server that was set up for the team to chat.

He hovered over it, nervous.

 _Come on Dean,_ he chided himself, resorting to a little pep talk. _It’s just people. People just like you. Maybe a little more inclined toward glitter, but otherwise just like you._

Clicking, he was prompted to download the app, and within moments, a dark screen full of text appeared in front of him. Username? Impala67, obviously.

 

 

> **Impala67 just slid into the server!**
> 
> **jscribbles:** We’ve got a live one! Hey @Impala67, welcome!
> 
> **PieDarling:** Hi! Welcome to the team!
> 
> **Impala67:** Hey
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hello, @Impala67. Thanks for joining the server! Your application said you were from the US and use He/Him pronouns, is that correct?
> 
> **Impala67:** Kansas, and yeah.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Okay, your roles are all set up. I am also in Kansas! It says here this is your first year – that’s great, we’re happy to have you! What made you decide to sign up for GISH?
> 
> **Impala67:** Honestly, my brother and friend persuaded me to do it, I don’t usually do stuff like this
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** Welcome to the team. Get prepared, newbie! We go hard when the list drops!
> 
> **SOBS:** She means she goes hard. The rest of us are pretty chill. Welcome, Impala. I’m in the States too! GA :)
> 
> **jscribbles:** Jscribb here, representing Canada
> 
> **PieDarling:** Latin America, reporting in
> 
> **Zwetschge14:** Why doesn’t discord have an Austrian flag? I call racism
> 
> **Elena:** Hey Impala. I’m from England.
> 
> **Ellen_of_Oz:** Three guesses, but if it’s not Oz you’re wrong!
> 
> **Impala67:** Woah. You guys really are from all over the place... and there's a lot of you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** 15 people total, a full team. Some people pop in just for items but there’s a little core group of friends that hangs out here all the time. You’ll get to know people, I’m sure.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** It’s good to have people all over, it gives us a higher chance of hitting the location-based items.
> 
> **Impala67:** Purely strategic, then
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, it’s also fun.
> 
> **Impala67:** Fair enough.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I’m the team captain, so if you have any questions you can DM me directly. In fact, if you want, why don’t you message me anyway? I can talk you through how we usually divide up the list of items during the hunt, and as we’re in the same time zone, I can maybe talk you through your first item, if you need any assistance.
> 
> **Impala67:**  Yeah that’d be cool actually, I’ll do that
> 
> **SOBS:** Prepare for fun, Impala. Angel is the best captain, and we are the best team. Amanda’s a little scary but you get used to her
> 
> **AmandaCanzo:** I’m not scary, I’m just competitive
> 
> **jscribbles:** You keep telling yourself that, boo.

Dean smiled to himself, rearranging one of the pillows on the couch so he could lean on his side. This wasn’t so bad. The team seemed friendly, even if the chat itself was a bit overwhelming, and they clearly had some cool kinda online bond that Dean had never really had with anybody.

He quickly sent a private message to the captain, AngelofThursday, to let him know he was going to grab a beer and then he’d be ready to get the low-down on how everything worked. Angel messaged him back instantly, just a smiley face and a thumbs-up emoji. Dean wasn’t really an emoji fan, but he wasn’t about to turn down help from a friendly semi-local teammate.

Returning to the laptop with his bottle, Dean fired up Netflix on the TV and settled in for an evening getting to know his fellow GISHers.

***

Cursing, Dean flew into the kitchen, speeding past Sam who was leaning against the counter devouring something green on toast. Stopping in front of the refrigerator, Dean squinted sleepily at Sam’s food.

“Dude, what the hell is that? It looks like snot. With ants on it.”

“It’s avocado toast, caveman. With a little chia seed sprinkled on it.”

Dean shuddered, digging around in the chiller until he found one of the shrink-wrapped bacon sandwiches that could be thrown in the microwave.

Sam watched him, looking horrified, but not bothering to mention it. “Oversleep?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, I was up late,” Dean admitted, sloshing some of the coffee Sam had already made into a mug. Blowing across the surface, he winced as he began taking hot gulps.

“Doing what?” Sam questioned curiously, crunching his way through his toast crust.

“Talking with my GISH team. Getting to know them, like you told me to.”

“Oh?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “They’re nice, then?”

“Yeah, they seem cool,” Dean shrugged. “The team captain is pretty awesome. He’s helping me get settled and stuff. We should probably pick up some hot glue, by the way. I’ve been told that three times now.”

Sam smirked. “Alright then. Still sorry you couldn’t be on our team, but maybe next year! If I’ve got you in once, you better believe I’m gonna keep you at it.”

Dean rolled his eyes so hard he almost strained himself.

“I have a couple of job interviews today,” Sam continued, “and then I promised Gabe I’d help him get his TV and stuff from Kali’s apartment this weekend. Make a list of the stuff your team says to get, and I’ll do the same, and we can go together once the Hunt starts on Monday.”

“Sure,” Dean answered distractedly, throwing back the last of his coffee. “But first I have to get through Friday.”

Sam reached into the microwave, taking out Dean’s bacon sandwich and grabbing a piece of paper towel to wrap it in for him. “You know, you could save time every morning if you just make Cas a coffee here and took it to work with you, rather than stopping by the campus café.”

Dean stopped, putting one hand on the edge of the sink and turning to look at Sam. He blinked incredulously. “Why did I never think of that?”

“Because you’re a dumbass,” Sam offered sweetly, smiling. Turning to the cabinet above the coffee maker, he pulled out a simple metal travel thermos and handed it to Dean along with the sandwich. “Here.”

Dean grinned, crossing over to the pantry to dig around for some honey. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he pulled the fridge open and looked thoughtfully inside it. Pulling out a second bacon sandwich, he threw it into the microwave.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Dean asked defensively. “I think Cas’s wife is like you; he’s complained more than once about egg-white omelets.”

Sam looked offended. “They’re nutritious, Dean!”

“So is cow shit.”

After a few more eye rolls and elbowing past each other a couple more times, both of the brothers were prepared to get out of the house.

Bidding Sam goodbye, Dean ran out to Baby and settled Cas’s coffee and sandwich carefully into the cup holders, before tearing out of the parking lot. If he really pushed it, he might still be on time.

Traffic wasn’t bad and he made good time, though Cas was already slumped on his desk by the time Dean arrived.

“Morning, Cas,” he greeted the half-awake professor, sliding the travel cup and sandwich onto his desk.

Cas pulled the coffee wordlessly towards him, glugging down a few gulps before he managed, “Dean.”

Dean smiled, nodding in return as he settled behind his desk. He quickly pulled up his college email, reminding himself of the numbers they’d have to expect for the last week of summer classes. The summer classes were always filled with a wide variety of students that the traditional three-semester calendar just didn’t work for, and they were at least a little more laid back than Cas’s usual syllabus. A good thing, with them both wanting to take days off.

It didn’t look too bad, so far. The college had arranged for Professor Balthazar to sub for Cas for three days. Dean didn’t mind working with Balth, but he was a little wacky and leaned towards short-tempered when people didn’t agree with him. Cas had already expressed relief that Dean would be there to back him up, which gave Dean a little burst of pride.

Quiet minutes passed while Dean worked through his emails and Cas worked through his coffee. The professor had almost made it to the bottom of the cup before he seemed to register what he was drinking out of.

“Dean?” Cas asked, his voice less sleepy but still deep and rumbling. “Where’s this coffee from?”

“Is it not any good?” Dean asked, concerned. “I brought it for you from home, I just thought it would save me time.”

Cas blinked. “You made this? And brought it all the way here for me? It’s delicious.” He seemed to suddenly notice the sandwich as he spoke, and his eyes widened in delight. “And breakfast too? Real breakfast, thank god. Anna left me grapefruit, this morning.” Cas shuddered a little. “Grapefruit!”

Dean laughed. “Yes, I made it. I just thought it would save me time, rather than going to the café every day. And grapefruit is the devil’s fruit. A man needs bacon,” he agreed, grinning across at Cas.

Cas smiled, and for a moment he looked down, directing his gaze almost shyly to the top of the desk. “You know you don’t have to bring me coffee, Dean. I appreciate it, but it’s not a requirement of your employment here—”

“I know that, Cas,” Dean interrupted, chuckling. “I do it because I like to.”

Cas gave Dean an odd look, but a soft smile overtook his features and he ducked his head again. “Well, thank you, Dean. I appreciate it. It’s very kind of you.”

Dean’s stomach flip-flopped as Cas smiled, and he quickly busied himself with his email again. “You’re welcome, Cas,” he murmured to the screen. “Any time.”

The rest of the day without incident. Students came and went, time ticked on, and Cas’s last class rolled around before Dean knew it.

Dean was looking forward to getting home, not only for the weekend, but for the few days of vacation and the scavenger hunt that would follow. Not that he’d admit as much to Sam, of course. Not yet.

 _Just because Sam told me GISH was fun when he and Gabe would do it in college, and it turns out he might—possibly—be right, there’s no reason to make the ‘I told you so’ that easy,_ Dean mused as the students all departed. 

No matter what he tried to tell himself though, he was oddly eager to get back to his laptop and chat with his GISH team. They’d said they would show him some of the stuff they’d done for previous years that night, and he was curious to see what he might be getting into.

Finally, a little later than usual as they were wrapping up for vacation, Dean and Cas were done. They chatted idly about various students as Cas locked up his office, and then reached over to give Dean his travel mug back.

“Thanks again for the coffee.” Cas grinned, a special, slightly toothy smile that the professor only rarely gave out, but often shared with Dean.

“No problem, Cas.” Dean returned the expression as he came to a stop next to Baby, putting the mug and his briefcase on the roof for a second so that he could dig around for his car keys. “So, when do your brothers get in?” Dean asked Cas politely, noting that Cas had stopped beside him.

“Oh…” Cas sounded unsure. “Sometime tomorrow, I think.”

Dean nodded, pulling the Impala keys out of his pocket. “Well, I hope you have fun with them.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Before Dean knew what was happening, Cas had impulsively reached forward and clapped one arm around him. It was probably meant to be fleeting, but Dean responded before his brain could catch up, reaching around to turn the one-armed goodbye into a proper, if brief, hug.

“Enjoy your time with Sam,” Cas said next to Dean’s ear, causing a small shiver to run down Dean’s spine. “Have fun, in case we don’t catch each other next week for me to say that.”

Caught unawares, Dean didn’t think to hold his breath, resulting in a deep inhale of the warm scent that instantly enveloped him. Cas smelled like cinnamon and honey and Dean forgot how to speak.

They’d hugged before, of course. Dean remembered Cas hugging him when he’d gotten word that he’d been accepted as a TA, and when he’d proudly told him Sam had finished law school. He’d hugged Cas on his birthday and once when Cas’s cat had passed away.

But they didn’t hug just because. And now, with Dean’s speech failing like a fourteen-year-old’s, he remembered why. He felt the play of Cas’s pectoral muscles against his chest, the gentle squeeze of his firm biceps against his side and shoulder, the tiniest catch of stubble on the curve of his neck as Cas’s jaw touched it for the briefest of moments. Dean turned to jello, and had to remind himself to breathe.

Pulling away awkwardly, Dean ducked into the Impala, barely remembering to grab the items off the roof.

He waved at Cas as he sped away home, angry with himself for being such an idiot.


	4. Chapter 4

The weekend was busy and the first half passed in a blur, which Cas was grateful for. It was preying on his mind that he may have somehow embarrassed himself in front of Dean on their last day, pushing perhaps a little too much at the boundaries Dean had always so carefully set. He’d spent his walk home on Friday trying to decide if he should text Dean and apologize for hugging him, as Dean had clearly been uncomfortable when he’d dived into the car, but in the end, decided that would only make it weirder.

The coffee had thrown him, he knew. It was so sweet of Dean to bring him coffee and a bacon sandwich from home. It didn’t mean anything, of course, but it was just so kind and… domestic, somehow. Cas had allowed it to warm his heart just a little too much, perhaps.

Most of Saturday had been spent topping up his craft supplies and getting Jack and Anna integrated into his GISH team. Anna had participated once before, several years past, on a different team. But this would be Jack’s first time, and Cas wanted to make sure he had fun. He was very fond of his nephew, even if—being a teenager—he could be frustrating at times. Being able to share GISH with him now that he was older was something quite special to Cas, particularly as Cas figured he was unlikely to ever have children of his own, what with being very gay and very awful at dating.

With three new members on his GISH team, there was a whole new dynamic to navigate this year, but on the whole, Cas was excited to get started and show Jack what it was all about.

Impala67 seemed to fit in very well. When teams weren’t full, the GISH gnomes (as GISHers called the staff who organized the Hunt) assigned solo players to fill in the gaps. His team, Adventuring Angels, had a few random team members before—Cas had met jscribbles and GarthVader, two of his best friends, that way. But not every random person participated well or stuck around for more than a year. The Hunt hadn’t even begun yet, and Cas found he was already hoping that Impala67 did stay. He was funny and, Cas was starting to see, secretly a huge dork. It seemed like GISH was going to be good for helping him come out of himself a bit, and Cas was enjoying getting to know him.

On Sunday he’d promised to take Jack to the mall and came back utterly exhausted. Jack was a great kid, a delight by most teenagers’ standards, but he constantly asked questions and had an enthusiasm that Cas, now firmly in the higher end of his thirties, occasionally struggled to match.

Slumping down onto the couch, Cas pulled his laptop over and logged on, hoping he could spend the rest of the day quietly lurking on the internet rather than moving.

> **AngelofThursday:** How’s it going, guys? Everyone ready for the list of tasks to drop in the morning?
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** I’ve got all my alarms set
> 
> **SOBS:** So excited ahhhh!!! HYPE HYPE HYPE!!
> 
> **Impala67:** I’m oddly nervous...and excited at the same time. 
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** Neverouscited. A valid term for the night before GISH. 
> 
> **jscribbles:** Don’t be too nervous Impala! Angel has you under his wing, you’ll do fine
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Soooooo… do we think there will be a Stormtrooper item this year?
> 
> **PieDarling:** I think there’s one pretty much every year right?
> 
> **FallenMilton:** I don’t know, is there?
> 
> **jscribbles:** Yeah as far as I recall there’s been one every year
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** So will we miss out on the item this year? GrumpyAsian was the one with the Stormtrooper costume, remember?
> 
> **SOBS:** Oh shit, yeah, he was
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, unless one of us can rent one this late in the day, we might have to miss it this year
> 
> **Impala67:** Uh, there’s a chance I might be able to help with that
> 
> **PieDarling:** You have a Stormtrooper costume, Impala?? Didn’t see you as the type
> 
> **Impala67:** I don’t, but I know someone who might
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, if you can touch base with them in case it becomes relevant, that’s usually a fairly high point item. It’s yours if you can do it!
> 
> **Impala67:** I’ll text her and see what she says. I’ll let you know.

Cas smiled down at his laptop, lifting it to rearrange his feet on the couch. Once he was resettled, he switched over to his direct message chat with Impala67.

> **AngelofThursday:** It’ll be a big advantage if you can get us a Stormtrooper costume, Impala! Let me know if you’re successful, you could work on it as your first item, depending on what the tasks end up being.
> 
> **Impala67:** Yeah, I’m going to try. One of my childhood friends is a giant nerd, she cosplays all the time and has a million costumes. I already texted her.
> 
> **Impala67:** What were the Stormtrooper items like in previous years?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hmm, let me think… One year was ‘ye olde Stormtrooper’. Another was ‘pamper yourself… as a Stormtrooper.’ I also seem to remember GrumpyAsian cleaning a pool one year.
> 
> **Impala67:** Wow. Planning on dumping me in at the deep end, huh
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Was that a pun?
> 
> **Impala67:** Yes it was, be honored
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You’re a dork. I also don’t always pick up on puns very well, so you’re the one who should be honored.
> 
> **Impala67:** I am a bit of a dork. I just tend to keep it hidden better in day to day life, lol
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Why?
> 
> **Impala67:** What do you mean, why?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** What made you feel like you have to hide it? There’s nothing wrong with being who you are. You’re funny and entertaining to be around.
> 
> **Impala67:** Wow. You’re not afraid of blunt questions, huh
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** My sister often tells me that my bluntness is part of the reason I don’t do so well socially outside of work. Apologies. You don’t have to answer that.
> 
> **Impala67:** Nah, I don’t mind.
> 
> **Impala67:** I think it’s probably because of my Dad, he was one of those “man’s man” kind of types. I turned out to be a bisexual stealth-nerd.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** So, you’re not comfortable letting people know you’re bi ether?
> 
> **Impala67:** I’m more comfortable with that, oddly. My friends and brother have always been super supportive, my mom too, so I guess I got used to that in the end. I’m always afraid people won’t take me seriously if they know I’m a huge dork, lol, and I feel unqualified to be in my field as it is lol
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well hopefully GISH can make you a bit more open to having fun and being who you are

Cas stopped typing, clenching his fists against the hypocrisy he could practically feel coming out of his fingers. His new friend was being open with him, but by encouraging him, Cas was lying by omission; he rarely showed anyone he knew much of who he was, either. A handful of people saw a little, here and there, but Cas was a private person. He’d been burned too many times in the past to trust people easily.

He began to wonder if that was part of why he’d let himself cling onto Dean so long, because it was easier, before reversing his thoughts swiftly.

_ Alright, back up there,  _ he thought.  _ No need for the psychoanalysis.  _

Reaching up to stretch his arms out above his head, Cas realized that he was actually fairly tired, excited or not. 

_ Maybe I should just go to bed and get a really good nights’ rest before the item list comes out,  _ he coaxed himself, bidding Impala a quick goodnight before he slipped his laptop onto the far seat of the couch, and heading off to sleep.

 

*******

 

Cas woke to a discord message from Impala67, saying that his best friend was on her way over with a Stormtrooper costume. Perfect. Cas blinked blearily a few times before he managed a grin and immediately ducked out of the discord app on his phone so that he could head straight downstairs to his laptop. He, Anna, and Jack had agreed to go through the item list together over breakfast.

Shuffling sleepily into the kitchen in his navy pajamas with tiny bees all over them, Cas found Anna already at the stove.

He dropped himself down to the small kitchen table, waiting in his customary morning silence. He gladly reached out for the cup of coffee someone kindly pushed in his direction, pulling it in toward his chest and taking a huge slurp.

_ It’s not as good as Dean’s,  _ he thought mournfully.  _ The honey’s all wrong. _

Regardless, he gulped it down eagerly, seeking wakefulness. It didn’t take him long to reach the bottom of the cup, so he was awake enough to register when Anna slid a plate of pancakes onto the table in front of him.

“Pancakes,” Cas managed to rumble, attempting to smile. He fought through his sleepiness to pick up his fork and shove a huge bite of the breakfast into his mouth.

“Yes!” chirped Anna. “I made them with hand-ground buckwheat flour from the market, and I added chia and flax seeds, some stone-ground almonds, a few scoops of organic protein powder and some crushed bananas instead of the wet ingredients—”

Anna was still talking, but her voice faded into the background as Cas desperately searched the table for a napkin, spitting out the mouthful of lumpy cardboard he’d inadvertently eaten, having foolishly assumed Anna couldn’t health-ify a pancake. Oh, how wrong he was.

Wrinkling his nose, he wondered if it’d be out of line to text Dean and ask him if he could bring him a bacon sandwich on his day off.

Carefully screwing up the napkin and “hmm””-ing thoughtfully in response to Anna’s pancake soliloquy, Cas stretched back subtly to drop the scrunched-up paper into the trash can without Anna realizing. He loved his sister, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he wasn’t a bird and he had no desire to eat like one.

Jack bounded in from the living room, carrying his iPad. “List’s up! Let’s go!” he chirped.

Cas had been delighted with how enthusiastic Jack had been about GISH. So many teenagers were salty and unenthused about everything, but Jack had always been different in that regard.

“What have we got, Jack-Jack?” Anna brought over two more plates of pancakes for Jack and herself, and dropped into the spare chair. “Read them out to us!”

And so, Jack began reading.

At almost two hundred items, with more to be announced last minute as the week wore on, Cas thought that this year’s list was one of the best.

As Jack read past a Stormtrooper item, Cas quickly whipped out his phone to hop onto the team server, realizing he hadn’t had the lucidity to claim his laptop from where he’d left it on the couch in the living room.

He quickly messaged the team to tell them to log in to the spreadsheet they’d set up and begin claiming items as soon as possible. While Jack carried on reading, he then turned his attention to his private chat with Impala67.

> **AngelofThursday:** Stormtrooper item confirmed!!
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Are you ready for this, Impala?
> 
> **Impala67:** As ready as I’m going to get, I guess. Me and my brother and his best friend are just starting to go over the list together now while we have breakfast
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** My sister, nephew and I are doing the same thing. I’ve already got my eye on a few smaller items I can whip out this morning to warm up.
> 
> **Impala67:** I could tell you what I usually whip out in the mornings to warm up, but lets keep this clean.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** One of these times I’m not going to understand your double meaning, and this is going to get very embarrassing for me.
> 
> **Impala67:** And it will be glorious
> 
> **Impala67:** Wait YOGA
> 
> **Impala67:** I have to do Stormtrooper yoga? That's what the list says. Am I understanding that right? At a yoga class?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, preferably at a class. We could improvise. Is that a problem?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I don’t want to scare you off with your first item, but it’s a lot of points…
> 
> **Impala67:** Dude.
> 
> **Impala67:** I was born for this. I dated a yoga instructor once. Never went anywhere but… I got this.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh wow. Well, in that case… impress me.
> 
> **Impala67:** You just wait.

“Cas?” Anna waved her hand in front of Cas’s face. “Are you even listening to the rest of the list?”

“Hmm? Oh!” Cas sat up straighter, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. Where were we?”

The corner of Anna’s mouth turned up into a wolfish grin. “Who are you talking to over there?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, trying to look over at Cas’s phone screen.

“No one.” Cas suddenly found himself flushing oddly. “I mean, just someone on the team.”

Anna raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. Instead, she gave a knowing little smirk and turned back to Jack, listening to his recitation of the rest of the wacky scavenger hunt items they would try to check off over the coming week.

 

***

 

“I hauled the dress form up out of the garage,” Anna called from the hallway.

“Thank you!” Cas shouted distractedly, leaning over the kitchen table where he was experimenting with the best way to affix melon rinds to fabric. They were tricky, and somewhat resistant to being stapled or sewn.

Leaving them for a moment to see if any of the different types of glue he’d tried would dry successfully, Cas wandered over to the sink to wash his hands.

“Anna?” he called back over his shoulder, “did you see my old easel out there?”

“Yes,” she said, coming up behind him with a cardboard box full of junk in her arms. “It’s against the wall at the back. Did you need it?”

“Not immediately.” Cas smiled, turning around to lean on the counter as he dried his hands off. “There’s an item I claimed which involves painting with your nose, so an easel will probably help. It sounds quick though, so I probably won’t do that one until the end of the week.”

Anna nodded. “Yeah, makes sense to try and get the big point items out of the way first, the ones that might take a lot of planning.”

Jack, who had been on his phone in the living room, came to update Cas on his findings. “There’s a fire station a mile away that is happy for me to go and serve them breakfast tomorrow,” he grinned proudly.

Cas reached over and ruffled his nephew’s blond hair affectionately. “Good job, Jack. You’re doing very well already. What’s next on your list?”

“I promised to help Amanda plan out how to attach a GPS tracker to her rocket, so they can retrieve it afterward,” he answered proudly.

Anna raised an eyebrow, turning to Cas as Jack headed off through the kitchen door and  back to his iPad in the other room. “This is good for him, I think,” she smiled. “You were right.”

“Of course I was,” Cas said with a wink.

Anna nudged him playfully with her elbow before pointing over to the kitchen table, which was covered in the wreckage of Cas’s fruit experiments. “Any luck with the melons?”

“Waiting for my glue tests to dry,” he informed her.

“How’s the rest of the team getting on?” Anna asked, a little too nonchalant.

Cas squinted at her suspiciously but wasn’t quite sure what she was searching for, so answered her honestly. “I haven’t heard from many of them. Everyone is wrapped up in first-day madness. Impala messaged me after lunch though, he’s got the Stormtrooper yoga item all arranged. He’s headed to do it straight after he gets off work today.”

“When will that be?” Anna asked curiously.

“No idea,” Cas shrugged. “I haven’t asked him what he does. But he’s been at work all day, so I imagine in the next few hours.”

Anna nodded, smiling as she moved over to the refrigerator. “Well, I’m going to throw something in the oven for dinner. It turns out that painting with Skittles is hungry work.”

“And you thought I was crazy buying all those bags of Skittles at the mall on Sunday,” Cas grinned.

“Cas, that  _ is _ crazy. This whole week is crazy.”

“What’s your point?”

“None, really,” Anna laughed, rooting around in the freezer to pull out one of the meals she had prepped and frozen the week before, to save them time during Hunt week.. “The team seems great though. You’ve gathered some good people over the years.”

Cas nodded, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully. “I have. It’s sad when people move on, but this year is going well. It’s nice to have you and Jack on the Hunt with me this year. And Impala seems like a great addition to the team.”

“Hmm, yes,” Anna agreed, smiling. “You two seem to have hit it off rather well.”

Cas squinted, holding up a hand defensively. “Yes, we have, but I know what you’re inferring, and no.”

“He’s from Kansas.”

“So is Harrison Ford, and I’m not about to ask him out either.”

“Fine.” Anna gave in, exasperated. “Forget I said anything.”

Anna was saved from further reprimand by the ping of Cas’s phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, Cas unlocked it and grinned down at the screen. “Look at this!” he called Anna over, turning the device toward her.

“Oh wow, that’s perfect!”

On the screen was a picture of a sunny, well-lit yoga studio. A tall man with chin-length brown hair in track pants and a sweater, and a shorter blond man in what looked suspiciously like black booty shorts, were performing yoga poses led by a petite, smiling brunette woman. Behind them, in the center of the camera between their framing poses, was a fully-costumed Stormtrooper, twisted up in an impressive pretzel shape on a yoga mat.

Anna tilted her head to the side slightly, examining him. “Bendy,” she commented, smirking. “You’re totally sure you don’t want to—”

“Anna,” Cas interrupted with a glare, though he couldn’t help sneaking another look at the picture once she’d flounced off, giggling.

 

***

 

A few hours later, Cas pulled his creaky Lincoln Continental into the parking lot of the Roadhouse. The car made an awful sighing noise as he parked—he probably really needed to get some work done to it. But, the vehicle was still moving so he shrugged, ignored the frequent nose, and mentally put it off for a while longer. 

He’d never really known anything about cars; one of his older brothers loved them, as did Dean, but all Cas could say about either of their vehicles was that Inias’ was red and Dean’s was black. He couldn’t even recall what make they were.

Eyeing the Continental suspiciously as he got out, Cas hoped desperately that the old car wouldn’t break down. He used it so little it always felt like a waste to repair.

Moving through the door to the Roadhouse, he stepped up to the bar and quickly ordered a cheeseburger. He exchanged a brief hello with the owner, a young woman named Jo that he’d had the pleasure of teaching for one year before she dropped out to run the bar, and headed off to a table at the back.

Being home with Anna and Jack for the whole day was… a lot. Cas loved his sister and nephew more than anyone, but long stretches of time all together could grow a little tiring for them all.

Anna had been trying to save up for a house of her own for her and Jack, but as a single mom on one salary, it had been hard. Cas wanted to help Anna, and Jack was a great kid. But after three years, he was definitely glad they’d started looking for somewhere to move to. 

In order to keep the peace at home while Anna stressed over potential house purchases, Cas had very recently started hiding out at the Roadhouse a couple of times a week.

Cracking open the spine of a fresh novel, Cas sequestered himself in a corner far behind the bar and got lost in the story while he waited for his food.

“Must be good,” a familiar voice said, right next to his ear.

“Dean!” Cas practically jumped out of his skin and dropped his book with a flutter of pages.

Dean laughed, bending down to pick it up for him. “Sorry, Cas. Oh!” he exclaimed, looking at the book cover. “It really  _ was _ a good one.”

Smiling apologetically, Dean slid the novel back onto the table in front of Cas with one hand, sliding a plate containing Cas’s cheeseburger alongside it. “Jo asked me to bring this over to you. She’s on her own tonight,” Dean explained.

Cas tilted his head, his brow wrinkled in curiosity. “Do you work here in the evenings?”

“No.” Dean laughed. “Jo is an old family friend. I grew up with her. Like a little sister. I just stopped by to grab a bite myself on the way home, and she roped me in.”

“Ahh.” Cas nodded, understanding. “Well, she makes the best burgers in town,” he said, pulling the plate toward him.

“They aren’t bad, I’ll give her that. Eating alone tonight, Cas?” Dean asked, making a sweeping gesture to indicate the other empty seats in the booth.

“I am—” Cas cut himself off quickly. He so rarely saw Dean outside of work, he wanted to ask him to sit with him, but he didn’t know how he would take it.

_ He reacted so oddly when I hugged him on Friday, I don’t want him to think _ —Cas’s thoughts were interrupted by Dean taking a step toward the table.

“Would you, uh,” Dean looked a little nervous, though Cas couldn’t place why. “Would you mind if I sat with you?” Dean asked. “It’s getting a little busy out front, and—”

“Of course,” Cas gestured to the seat opposite. Grinning, he raised an eyebrow. “Though, will Jo bring you your food, or will you have to get it yourself?”

Dean chuckled, settling down into the seat. “She better bring it, or no tips for her! Not that she ever lets me give her any,” he amended. Nodding toward the novel which lay between them on the tabletop, Dean asked, “How’s the Vonnegut treating you?”

“As wonderfully as always,” Cas answered, slipping into comfortable territory. Literary analysis, he and Dean could do. They did it every day.

“Have you not read this before?” Dean poked curiously at the book. “It looks brand new, and if so, I’m shocked.”

Cas grinned wolfishly. “As if. Mine fell apart.”

They both laughed comfortably, and for a short while, Cas forgot all of their unspoken baggage and just enjoyed a lively dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam roused Dean from his slight hangover by slapping his way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen while wearing flippers and a snorkel.

The morning went downhill from there.

It was the first day that Dean had to work with Professor Balthazar, who got into an argument with three students over the literary validity of the novelization of the _“Titanic”_ movie. He also treated Dean like more of a minor inconvenience than an assistant, but at least Dean could answer some of the students’ questions after class without his oversight.

All day, Dean kept over-analyzing his dinner with Cas. Had he been too pushy, too friendly? They’d had a great time, but thanks to his nerves Dean had definitely drunk one or two whiskeys too many. He also hadn’t asked why Cas was eating alone, without his wife and kid. He hadn’t wanted to know the answer.

His thoughts span in circles and by the time he left for the day, Dean was dying to go home and crack open a beer.

Flopping down onto the couch with his open bottle, his hip smacked into something hard. Digging between the cushions, he pulled out a small monkey wrench.

“Who lost a monkey wrench?” he called, without much surprise.

Socked feet skidded out of Sam’s bedroom and slid to a halt behind Dean. Gabriel reached over the couch to grab it with a grin.

“Thanks, Dean-o!” he said over his shoulder, already scurrying back to the bedroom.

Dean stared tiredly into space and shook his head slightly. He’d worry about whatever that was later. Right now, he wanted beer and food.

“Sam, Gabe, I’m ordering pizza,” he yelled out, unlocking his phone and thumb-flicking his way down to the number of the local Italian pizzeria. “Want anything?”

Sam’s head stuck out of his bedroom just long enough to reply, “Veggie for me, just get two desserts for Gabe. Garlic knots too.”

“Gotcha,” Dean said, tucking the phone under his ear and pulling his laptop onto his thighs.

He dialed the pizza place quickly, already logging on to discord to touch base with the rest of the Adventuring Angels.

 

> **Impala67:** Hey guys, how’s it going?
> 
> **FallenMilton:** Not bad, thanks :) Angel, my son and I just finished item 4 this afternoon! One bubble-wrap stress relief station, set up at the bus station. Just about to put a shot of it up on the team Instagram!
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Great job, @FallenMilton! Don’t forget to the check it off on the spreadsheet! Hey @Impala67. Ready to get GISHy for the night now work is done?
> 
> **Impala67:** Sure am. Just ordered some dinner. Going to chat with @AngelofThursday in a bit and brainstorm some other items we can do.
> 
> **Impala67:** What else did you guys get done today?
> 
> **FallenMilton:**  My son took breakfast to the fire station this morning and they liked it so much they agreed to use the fire truck sirens to perform a song for him, so we got to check off two items.

Dean grinned down at the laptop. FallenMilton’s son, who was also AngelofThursday’s nephew, was by far the youngest on the team. His enthusiasm was adorable, and he’d been checking off items left, right, and center. Angel didn’t allow him in the main chat server with them, though, but occasionally he’d pop onto discord just to say hello in a private chat. Angel had told Dean that the boy was sweet and a little naive for his age, so thinking over some of the wide-ranging and totally inappropriate topics they discussed, that seemed pretty wise.

Quickly finishing the pizza order, Dean dived back into a smaller, PG group chat with only a handful of the core members of the team, so that he could congratulate the kid.

 

> **Impala67:** Great job @NougatBoy! I bet Angel was pretty pleased with you for your fire truck items
> 
> **NougatBoy:** He was :) I also got to help @Amandacanzo finish her rocket plans yesterday! Mom said I could go visit with her and help her shoot the traffic cone into space! :D
> 
> **Impala67** : Impressive! I need to work out what my personal manifesto is, so that I can put it on toast. I’m not sure I have one.
> 
> **Amandacanzo** : Make something up… and make it short
> 
> **Impala67:** Good call

Discord moved so quickly that Dean found it overwhelming, on occasion, so it was no surprise that as soon as had he typed out his last message, the other chat channel started flashing again.

 

> **andimeantittosting:** I did it! Making a stack of rocks should not be this hard, guys. It’s up on the Instagram though. I think I’m done for the day, however. I have dinner plans and then tomorrow is horse day!
> 
> **Impala67:** Horse day?
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** You’ll see, Impala, you’ll see…
> 
> **Impala67** : I’m okay with horses, but I prefer mechanical ones
> 
> **jscribbles** : The fact that you like something mechanical between your legs doesn’t surprise me
> 
> **jscribbles:** Also hi
> 
> **Impala67:** Is she always like this?
> 
> **PieDarling:** YES
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** Yes
> 
> **SOBS:** Yup
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Usually she’s worse. She's the whole reason I have a separate chat for @NougatBoy's innocent little eyes. Hi everybody!
> 
> **Impala67:** Hey Angel :) You ready for me?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Always! Let’s do this!
> 
> **jscribbles:** …..
> 
> **PieDarling:** @jscribbles!!!
> 
> **jscribbles:** COME ON I didn’t even SAY anything.

Dean laughed to himself, getting up off the couch to stretch and grab another beer so that he wouldn’t have to move later. The people who made up his GISH team, other than himself, had all been hand-picked by Angel over the years, it seemed. He’d done a great job of bringing everyone together, and the group was tight-knit and constantly full of banter and enthusiasm. Most of them kept in touch all year round, apparently, even outside of GISH week.

Hearing the doorbell, Dean went to grab the food.

“Sam! Gabe! Food’s here!”

The pair crashed out of Sam’s bedroom door, bickering back and forth. Dean raised an eyebrow; Gabriel was wearing pajamas with a legitimate butt-flap, and Sam’s hair was in little braids.

“Do I wanna know?”

Sam eyed him levelly. “Probably not.”

Dean quickly raised his phone, grabbing a quick photograph of Sam’s surprised face before he had a chance to stop him. “Just in case Eileen wants to know what you get up to when you’re not together,” he grinned.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered, taking his veggie pizza back to his room.

Gabriel was eagerly poring over the chocolate melt cake and brownies that Dean had ordered for him. There was already a gooey brown smear at the edge of his mouth. “Awesome Dean-o, thanks.”

“No problem,” Dean said, heading back toward the couch with his own box. At the last moment, before Gabriel disappeared, Dean looked back over his shoulder. “Hey, Gabe?”

The pint-sized man tilted his head.

“You doing okay? Any better at least?” Dean asked quietly.

Gabriel’s gaze dropped down to the tiled apartment floor, and he stopped chewing for a moment. Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, no, not really, but… Sam helps.”

Dean smiled as best he could, but he knew it came out a little wonky and sad. He had, after all, known Gabriel for a couple of decades. They weren’t exactly BFFs, but Dean felt for him all the same.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” Gabriel added after a moment, forcing a smile back onto his face.

“Sure thing,” Dean nodded briskly. “It’s nice to have GISH buddies in the same apartment, anyway. At least you don’t think I’ve gone crazy.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Like I’d ever care. Good to see you’re getting on so well with your team, though.” He winked.

Dean felt himself flushing a little, before he carefully answered, “I’ve only known them a few days maybe, all in all, but they’re pretty cool.”

“Well, I’m glad ‘they’ are,” Gabriel said, making little air quotes with his spare hand, giving Dean a dark little grin before he ducked into Sam’s room.

Dean averted his gaze so that he didn’t get an eyeful of Gabriel’s buttoned butt flap.

He knew exactly what Gabriel was inferring of course—what everyone seemed to be inferring—but he barely knew Angel yet. He was unintentionally hilarious and super interesting, and Dean found him really easy to talk to. But he didn’t even know where he lived other than “Kansas”, or what he looked like.

 _Not_ , Dean thought, _that we can’t become friends. Or, you know, friends first. Maybe._

Clicking over to the private chat window with Angel, he could see that his friend had already sent him a couple of messages.

 

> **AngelofThursday:** I hope you had a good day. I’m sorry you have to work during GISH. I do too, this year, at least a little bit. I usually take the week off.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You’ve been doing really well with your items, though! Knocking it out of the park, as they say, for your first time.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Whenever you want to start brainstorming for your next bunch, I’m ready.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I managed to get a couple of items out of the way today too!

Dean clicked on the links that Angel had sent. The first was a donation page for one of the charities they were supporting that year, which Dean quickly emailed out to various friends and family members. The next link took him to the Adventuring Angels Instagram tag, where he could see that Angel had posted a link to a one-minute video. It was a simple stop motion film. Dean watched as two socks, young and virile, reenacted Romeo and Juliet. He found himself laughing out loud as the hand-knitted argyle and the cheap black cotton with the hole in the toe met, fell in love, and were driven tragically apart.

 

> **Impala67:** Dude!! That video was amazing!
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Thank you! We used to have another member, GarthVader, who did a lot of puppet theatre, and he’d always do items like that. He’s one of my best friends, actually. But he just had a baby with another teammate so this year I had to attempt it. :)
> 
> **Impala67:** Both him and his partner were on the team? That’s cool.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, they met here.
> 
> **Impala67:** What, on the team? You matchmaker, you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh, I am anything but. It does seem moderately common that people meet a partner through GISH, though.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** But it’s certainly nothing to do with me in this case. My love life is a bit of a disaster by all accounts, so I should probably leave other couples well alone.
> 
> **Impala67:** A disaster? Dude. I wouldn’t even describe my love life as a _disaster._ Well… actually, I take that back. I would.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh dear. No love for you, then?
> 
> **Impala67:** Oh, plenty of it. The unrequited kind.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Ahh. Well, same, actually.

Dean paused, unsure. First of all, how weird would be to flirt with someone you’d never met? Second of all, was it inappropriate while they still had to work together on GISH for the rest of the week?

 

> **Impala67:** Well, nevermind, Angel. You’re a fun guy, passionate about stuff. Maybe you’ll meet someone sooner than you think ;)

_Son of a bitch,_ Dean thought. The winky face at the end had been a typo. He’d meant for that to come across with just a little smile, more supportive than flirty. Maybe if he quickly edited the message he could—

 

> **AngelofThursday:** You’re right. Who knows, maybe I will ;)

Oh. Well then.

 

***

 

Dean woke up with a jolt.

“Did you even go to bed?”

“Ughff?”

Sam’s face was only a foot away from Dean’s, hovering over the back of the couch and looking down at him.

Sam grinned knowingly. “That’s a no. I’ll get you some coffee.”

Dean slowly pulled himself up to a properly seated position, stretching out the crick in his neck. He was definitely too old for this kind of thing.

 _Huh. Guess I fell asleep while we were—crap, the GISH item,_ Dean thought suddenly, looking around the couch frantically.

Smooshed under his thigh, he found a crumbling piece of toast with “You always have a choice” singed across the front. The handful of words had taken Dean a very long time with a wood burning tool.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, dropping the crumby handful onto the coffee table and brushing off his thigh.

Looking at the coffee table, he realized that his laptop was still open. After a good stretch where he pushed his arms over his head and curled his back like a cat, he slid it into his lap and checked the chat window.

His last message to AngelofThursday had been sent at 4:07 in the morning.

 _Oops,_ thought Dean, flushing involuntarily before he shook away the embarrassment.

So what if they’d stayed up all night chatting? They were teammates. Though, if he was honest, they hadn’t talked about GISH much at all. They’d talked about, well…everything and anything. Dean had gushed at length about his favorite cheesy horror movies. Angel had gone on a tangent about some kind of disease that was killing bees, which was way more interesting than it had first sounded. They’d discussed their favorite foods (burgers, of course,) their favorite TV shows (they both had a penchant for tacky medical dramas,) and places they’d always wanted to go on vacation.

They’d only met so recently, but Dean felt like he’d known Angel for years.

What they hadn’t done, though, was manage to actually complete any of their GISH items, in between chatting.

 _Crap,_ Dean thought. _Amanda’s gonna yell at me again._

Sam appeared, carrying a mug like some kind of gargantuan, sasquatch angel. Dean took the mug with a grateful smile. “Baby brothers are awesome, did I mention that recently?”

“It might have come up.” Sam smiled. “You’re working today, right?”

Dean nodded into his coffee cup.

“Good, thing I woke you up in time, then. What kept you up so late?”

“Just chatting with one of my teammates,” Dean admitted.

Sam emitted a thoughtful hum, but left Dean alone to wake up properly and didn’t mention it, in a rare moment of brotherly mercy.

Dean clicked over to the main team chat, reading the last few messages before he dived in.

 

> **Amandacanzo:** Anyone hear from Angel and Impala? They disappeared last night and I can’t see their items under the Instagram tag
> 
> **andimeantittosting** : Haven’t heard from them since Angel said he’d help Impala pick his next item. They disappeared at the same time.
> 
> **jscribbles:** What are you inferring hmmmm
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** Not to be pedantic, but that’s clearly _you_ inferring… but yeah, we’re all thinking it.
> 
> **Amandacanzo** : @AngelofThursday @Impala67 stop flirting and update us on items
> 
> **andimeanittosting:** Amanda!
> 
> **jscribbles:** LOLOLOOLLLL
> 
> **andimeantitosting:** I just posted my item picture from yesterday!
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Just saw it, @andimeantittosting!! Is that the most realistic unicorn you could find?
> 
> **andimeantitosting** : Well, it’s a horse with a horn on its head. It’s as realistic as unicorns are going to get, Amanda.
> 
> **Impala67:** Oh my god, @andimeantittosting, is that a unicorn farting a rainbow?
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** I don’t know what else you could possibly think it is… and hello, Impala. Where have you been, hmm?
> 
> **Impala67:** On my couch. Alone. Sleeping. You’re a bunch of gossipy ladies, you know that?
> 
> **jscribbles:** Yup. It’s not gossip if we’re just hoping it’s true :P
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Impala, where is your item?
> 
> **Impala67:** Well you see
> 
> **Impala67:** The thing is
> 
> **Impala67:** There was this bear
> 
> **jscribbles:** (Angel. Angel is the bear.)
> 
> **PieDarling:** OMGGGG HAHHAHAHA
> 
> **PieDarling:** Angel is so far from a bear, but continue
> 
> **Impala67:** NOT THAT KIND OF BEAR
> 
> **jscribbles:**  He really doesn't look like a bear, I promise. Of any kind. Actually, @Amandacanzo swears he looks like the GISH guy, but I can't see it.
> 
> **Impala67:** GISH guy?
> 
> **jscribbles:** Whats his name... Misha something. C? Carl?
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** AHHH TELL ME WHERE YOUR ITEM IS BEFORE I HAVE AN ANEURYSM
> 
> **AngelofThursday** : You are all blowing up my phone with notifications. Impala and I will complete the items tonight, Amanda. As well as some more. Right @Impala67?
> 
> **Impala67:** Yes! Of course

Dean switched immediately back to his private chat with Angel.

 

> **Impala67:**  SOBS was right, Amanda is scary.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Don’t worry, I’ll protect you ;) Would you believe me if I told you she’s actually very nice in real life, just competitive?
> 
> **Impala67:** You’ve met her?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh yes, many times. She’s actually from Oklahoma so she’s really quite close by. That’s why my sister was happy to let her son go visit, Amanda is an old friend.

Dean felt an odd pang that it took him a moment to place as jealousy.

 _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Dean thought, annoyed with himself. _Why does it matter if she’s met Angel and I haven’t? She’s known him for years longer._

Shaking his head at himself, Dean picked the laptop up with one hand and began to dawdle toward his bedroom. Time to switch to Discord on his phone. He was covered in toast crumbs and the remnants of last nights pizza, so before he could start GISHing, a shower was in order.

 

***

 

Six-thirty that evening found Dean in his shining Chevy Impala, with Sam and Gabriel in tow, heading for the biggest local craft store.

“How’s it feel, Dean, finally facing your fears?” Sam teased from the passenger seat.

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow but kept his gaze on the road.

“Glitter,” Sam grinned, looking over at him. “Never thought I’d see the day when Dean Winchester willingly took an evening trip to a craft store to buy multicolored glitter and rainbow streamers.”

Gabriel giggled in the back, his mirth showing just how much he agreed with Sam.

“I hate glitter because it gets everywhere,” Dean responded grumpily. “I’m not offended by it or scared of it, it’s just annoying as shit.”

Pulling up into a prime parking spot near the door, he hopped out of the car before he continued.

“Anyway, I’m doing the hunt aren’t I? You didn’t think I’d do that either.”

Sam grinned again, but it was with a note of pride this time, and his voice softened. “You’re right, actually. I didn’t. You’re not really open to… well, anything, usually. This is good, Dean. I’m proud of you.”

Gabriel made a dramatic faux-vomiting noise as he got out of the back seat. “Gross. So much brotherly love in one place.”

Dean snorted. “Just because all of your brothers are epic douches, Gabe, doesn’t mean all of us are.”

His only response to Sam was a quick slap on the shoulder, but for them, that was enough.

The signage for the store was intimidatingly bright. Dean had his nose buried in the Discord app on his phone, reading advice from AngelofThursday that suggested he should pick up a large packet of lint rollers too, if he wanted to survive GISH without glitter invading every facet of his life. He almost walked into the back of an ancient, neglected Lincoln in the parking lot, and Sam gave him a very pointed look.

Awkwardly, Dean slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Smooth, Dean,” Sam said nonchalantly.

“Shut up.”

Dean hurried on into the store. Sam and Gabriel had a bunch of items that they needed for tasks over the next few days, so they’d tagged along, but Dean needed some specific art supplies for the tasks he and Angel were going to attempt that night, and he needed the glitter for a poster project NougatBoy had helped him work out. They’d agreed to meet back up at seven-thirty to chat while they GISHed, so Dean needed to get a move on.

They split up when they entered the huge, multi-level craft store. This place had pretty much everything, which was great because Dean only had time for one stop.

Pulling his phone out from his back pocket once more, Dean thumbed his way across to the notepad app where he’d put his list. Settling the handles of a plastic basket into his inner elbow, Dean strode quickly through the store.

It took a minute to get his bearings; he’d certainly never been to this store, or any craft store, before then. But once he got a general idea of the layout, he started knocking items off his list.

He’d successfully gathered paint and a small canvas when he noticed a distinctive head of dark hair at the end of the aisle. Cas’s eternal bed-head was noticeable from a distance. Dean looked down at the basket full of odd craft supplies he carried.

 _How am I going to explain this?_ He thought desperately. He didn’t think that Cas would really have any particular opinion on him doing GISH, but he hadn’t explained the Hunt and he also hadn’t explained why he wanted the days off work; Cas probably thought it was to do with Sam. Somehow, GISH seemed personal, like he was trying to branch out in life and wasn’t quite ready to let everyone know about it yet.

So, Dean ducked his head down and moved into the next aisle.

Luckily, the next aisle contained all the glitter Dean needed. More glitter than he’d ever seen in his life, honestly. He blinked, slightly dazzled, and reached out for the biggest jar of multi-colored sparkles he could see.

He moved back down toward the end of the aisle, uncapping the glitter curiously. Why did people love this stuff so much? He poked the tiny flakes with the tip of his finger, watching they way they moved and clung around his nail, hundreds of thousands of tiny bits in just this one big ol’ jar of—

_Oof._

Dean slammed bodily into someone as he rounded the endcap, distracted by the sparkles.

He had only a split second to take in Cas’s face before the cloud of glitter obscured his vision.

Dean and Cas bounced off each other’s chests in an explosion of gold and silver and pink and blue and green.

It was like a bomb going off.

They both yelled and flailed, there was a crash, a screech, the sound of a shelf falling.

Everything settled.

Overhead, the craft store’s public-address system crackled to life. “Clean up on aisle three”.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said from the floor, his face a rainbow.

“Oh my god, Cas!” Dean reached down automatically to help him up, mortified. He could feel his ears burning red. “I’m so, so sorry—Jesus, look at all this glitter, holy shit—”

Dean flapped and panicked, and it took a moment for him to realize that Cas was laughing.

He gripped Dean’s arm, using it to help him pull himself up off the floor, his shoulders vibrating as his mirth exploded. “Dean! You—” he could barely get his words out. “You exploded like a pinata!”

Dean began chuckling too, unable to help himself. “Look at us,” he choked out, looking down at the riot of color that covered both of them, head to toe.

“I never saw you as the glitter type, Dean,” Cas managed, shaking one of his hands and laughing again as it created another sparkling cloud.

“I’m really, really not,” Dean leaned against the nearest shelf, bright red under the glinting layer of color, but still amused. “I’m tagging along with my brother,” he lied smoothly.

Cas looked up, and the two managed to meet each other’s eyes for a split second before starting to laugh again.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Dean ran his hand through his hair, dislodging a small avalanche of color.

“You might want to get that dandruff seen to,” Cas commented dryly, watching the glitter cascade out of Dean’s hair.

“You too,” Dean grinned, reaching across to ruffle Cas’s hair, creating a poof of sparkles that settled down across his trench coat.

Cas swiped his hand away playfully, before leading his head forward and shaking it viciously, a mushroom cloud of rainbow bits erupting upwards.

“Please! Sirs! Please stop moving!” A frantic employee hustled towards them, setting their laughter off again.

After a few minutes of being graciously vacuumed by the woman in the craft store uniform, Dean and Cas turned back to each other.

“I really am sorry Cas,” Dean shook his head, still embarrassed. “I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking. Honestly, I’m lucky it was you and not someone who’d want to beat my ass for making them look like a unicorn threw up on them.”

Cas chuckled again, low and throaty, the sound causing Dean’s heart to skip a beat. “I’m fine, Dean,” Cas said. “But if you really want to make it up to me, you can buy me a drink one night this week.”

Dean’s heart stuttered to a halt.

 _Did he just—No. Not like that. Like a friend._ Dean panicked internally. _Can I do that?_

Dean had serious doubts about whether he could get through an evening with Cas, with alcohol involved, without making a total ass of himself.

“Sure,” he grinned, hoping he didn’t look nervous. “I’m busy tomorrow night, but what about Thursday?”

Cas nodded, making to head off down the aisle and get back to his shopping. “The Roadhouse, then?” he offered. “At seven?”

“Sounds good,” Dean waved.

 _Just a drink,_ Dean thought. _Just a platonic drink with your married, totally hot co-worker._


	6. Chapter 6

Cas stumbled out of his front door with his tie undone, still tucking in his shirt. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but rather than too much sleep this time, he’d had far too little. He had stayed up far, far too late talking to Impala—honestly, he should have been embarrassed at that kind of poor decision making at his age, but he’d had such a good time he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He also couldn’t help but dwell on the earlier part of the previous night, even as he hurried to work, already late.

After going to the craft store, he had headed straight home and showered off the glitter that still clung to him. He’d then paced around the house for almost half an hour, too much adrenaline pumping around his veins to allow him to even sit down.

Dean had agreed to come out for a drink with him.

Of course, Dean probably didn’t mean it in the way Cas wished he’d mean it. Cas wasn’t stupid. He was hopeless and self-flagellating perhaps, but not stupid. But maybe, just maybe, he hoped, if Dean would spend some time with him outside of work, they could work past whatever it was that had happened three years ago.

Whatever it was that had sent Dean running.

Whatever it was about Cas that Dean didn’t like.

_ You’re a fool,  _ Cas thought viciously to himself, reaching the college parking lot. He tried to make sure his tie was on right before he got to his office, but as he often did, he seemed to have it backwards.

Cas’s stomach had felt sour and nervous for most of the night. He’d messaged Impala and told him he wasn’t feeling well, needing a little time to calm down. His friend had seemed concerned, told him to rest, and had got started on his items without him.

Cas had joined Impala later, and he had to admit, spending time chatting with him had completely distracted him from worrying about Dean. Impala was hilarious and engaging, and Cas couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d have any interest in continuing their acquaintance after GISH was over. 

Cas wondered if Impala was close enough to go for a drink with. If he’d even be interested.

“You are a mess, Novak,” Cas muttered to himself, coming to a stop in front of his office door so he could use the glass as a mirror.

He moved into his office and realized that without Dean there, he had no coffee.

“You’re an absolute mess,” he repeated, though he definitely wasn’t talking about just his tie, or just the coffee, anymore.

The day dragged. His students were grumpy that they were here during the summer, the cafeteria was out of burgers somehow, and Cas felt like he was letting his team down by not taking on as many GISH items as usual.

Exasperated, Cas was about to leave the lecture hall and head back to his office for his books, when he happened to look out of the window.

Out in the courtyard, a group of people were gathered. They appeared to be all dressed in costumes and masks, which pulled Cas’s attention. A pair of them broke off from the group—an extremely tall man with longish hair and a blank theatre mask, and a small blond man with a cheap Iron Man mask—and tied a banner between two trees.

“GISH Masked Water Balloon Ball!” the sign read, with the date underneath.

Cas blinked and grinned, immediately beginning to move out to the courtyard. Stopping himself suddenly, he spun on his heel and dashed off to KSU’s well-equipped student theatre.

He quickly sweet-talked Marie, the head of the theatre department, into letting him borrow a leftover mask from the recent mummers’ play they’d put on. Slipping the black, bird-like mask over his head, Cas hurried back toward the courtyard.

“Hey, excuse me,” Cas strode quickly up to the tall man in the blank white mask. “Would it be okay if joined you guys? And if you took a quick photo of me when I was done, for my team?”

Cas couldn’t see the guy’s expression behind the mask, but he nodded vigorously. “Sure, dude! The more the merrier,” he answered, muffled.

“Grab some water balloons and dive in!” the smaller, blond man advised, pointing to two huge barrels they had prepared at the side of the courtyard.

Aaron, one of the TAs in the math department, stood off to the side with a plastic tub, keeping people’s phones and bags safely away from the splashes. Cas dropped off his stuff, and dove in.

Five minutes of dancing, spinning and water-balloon throwing later, the ball was over and Cas was drenched from head to toe.

The man in the Iron Man mask kindly offered to take a picture of Cas. He quickly posed in front of the sign and thanked the two men for letting him tag in on their item. They waved him away, telling him it was all in the spirit of GISH.

Picking up his briefcase from Aaron, Cas squelched his way back to the theatre department. Marie didn’t bat an eyelid when he handed her the dripping mummers mask, merely dangling it between two fingers.

“Thank you for returning it, Professor Novak.” She nodded, squinting at it and disappearing off to the prop room, presumably to begin drying it out.

Cas didn’t much like the idea of walking home wet. He was wearing a white dress shirt, which was now see-through across his abs from being soaked in water and clung to him like a second skin.

_ I think there are still clothes in the office, from when I got dressed here for the Christmas party, _ he mused. Cas wasn’t the tidiest person, so Dean had probably folded them away somewhere in the office when he got tired of looking at the heap of fabric in the corner.

Cas ran his hand through his wet hair, making wild, black spikes stick up dramatically in every direction. Shaking the water droplets from his hand, he headed for his office. The corridors were empty, so Cas quickly shut the door behind him and unclasped his belt, whipping it out through his soaked belt loops.

A quick search located a spare pair of slacks and a crumpled but clean shirt, as Cas had suspected, folded away in the cabinet behind his desk. There was no way he’d tidied them away like that; it must have been Dean.

Dropping his soaked pants quickly, Cas kicked the heavy, nasty-feeling material as far away from his legs as he could, the fabric hitting the wall with a wet thud as it peeled from his skin.

That’s when the door opened.

Dean stepped inside, looking down at his phone.

Cas froze.

As if in slow motion, embarrassment curled in Cas’s stomach as he watched Dean look up from his phone. He smiled at first, then did a double take.

“Cas?” He sounded confused, Cas’s name becoming a question part-way through as he realized that Cas was mostly undressed and totally soaked.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas practically whispered, his voice dying from embarrassment.

He watched the way Dean’s eyes tracked over his wet abdomen, down to his legs and back up again. Cas took a brief moment to be grateful that the shirt, untucked, was long enough to cover the GISH tattoo of Pope Francis that graced the very top of his thigh. He wasn’t sure he could get the words out to explain that one, right now. Dean’s eyes lingered though, resting on Cas’s left pectoral muscle.

Dean tilted his head, his eyes fixed on the dripping fabric, one hand coming forward to gesture towards it. His fingers stopped barely half an inch from Cas’s chest, tracing the outline of the dark shapes that showed beneath the thin, clinging shirt.

“I never realized you had tattoos,” Dean murmured. His voice was thick, and Cas was utterly mesmerized by the way his throat constricted as he swallowed harshly.

Dean’s finger connected with Cas’s chest for the briefest of seconds, and Cas completely forgot to respond to Dean’s words. He let out an involuntary whine at the touch.

Flushing red, instantly mortified, Cas stepped back. “Uhm, yes, I—I uh,” Cas tried desperately to clear his throat. “Cold,” he stuttered, as if that was some kind of actual explanation for the noise he’d made. The office was fairly warm at this time of year, but neither of them mentioned it.

Dean blinked, then swiftly tore his gaze back up to Cas’s red face. “Right, sorry, I mean—God, sorry, this is—” Dean turned around, stepping back toward the office door. “Totally inappropriate, fuck, sorry man. I just came to see if I left my phone charger here yesterday. I’ve been using my phone a lot and it’s almost dead now,” Dean babbled.

Cas could see that the back of Dean’s neck was bright pink.

“Of course, no, I’m sorry,” Cas gushed, grabbing quickly at the dry pants and shirt he had set on the desk next to him. “This is embarrassing, I’m so sorry. My clothes got wet and I remembered I had some here. I shouldn’t have changed here, it was totally inappropriate of me—”

Cas cut himself off, realizing he was babbling just as Dean had been.

A short, breathless laugh came from Dean as he stood with his back still to Cas, giving him the privacy to dress. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have just barged in. Thought you’d be gone for the day,” Dean explained.

Cas’s brain was working overtime. “I was done but I, uh, I got caught by the sprinklers out on the lawn on the way out,” he said. It was a blatant lie, and he only hoped that Dean was too flustered to think too much about it.

“Right,” Dean said, somewhat weakly.

Dressed again, Cas saw Dean’s phone charger laying on his desk. He abandoned his wet clothes on the floor, grabbing at the cable and trying to head out of the office instead, just wanting to run away from the awkward situation.

“Here.” He offered the phone charger to Dean as he moved toward the office door.

“Thanks.” Dean turned, reaching out to take it from him. They were inches apart, both practically in the doorway, Cas turned sideways to slide out into the corridor.

As he brushed past Dean, Cas saw it again, that harsh swallow that he’d seen Dean make before. He lifted his gaze to Dean’s face, and they paused for a moment, looking at each other.

The tension hung in the air between them, thick enough to taste. Cas felt his pulse quickening, as for just a moment, Dean’s green eyes dropped to flicker over Cas’s lips.

“So, I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” Dean asked vaguely, dragging his eyes back up.

“Tomorrow?” Cas echoed uncertainly, edging toward the corridor.

“For that drink?” Dean reminded him, sounding hopeful.

“Oh!” Cas flushed again. “Yes. Of course. Seven. The Roadhouse.” He nodded, perhaps a few too many times, and fled out into the corridor.

 

***

 

“How was work?” Anna turned as Cas came through the back door, looking him up and down with a puzzled frown. “What happened to you? Why is your hair wet?”

Cas dropped his briefcase on to the kitchen table and leaned against the edge of it rather than sit down, digging the heels of his hands tiredly into his eyes.

“There were some GISH people at the college, using the courtyard for the masked water balloon ball item,” he explained. “They let me join in, so I got to take a picture and knock that off for our team, but I wasn’t exactly prepared clothes-wise.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Anna grinned before her expression fell as she studied Cas, stepping toward him slowly. “So, why don’t you seem happy about it at all?”

Dropping his hands limply down to his sides, Cas sighed. “I had… a moment, I guess, with Dean. After the water balloon fight.”

Anna frowned at the name, tilting her head sideways and folding her arms across her chest. “A moment?”

“Yeah.” Cas looked up, meeting Anna’s concerned gaze with a half-hearted smile. “It was stupid. I went back to the office to get changed, because I was soaked after doing the item. I thought I had some spare clothes at my desk that I’d left there a while back.”

Anna nodded, her arms still crossed, but not interrupting.

“I was getting dressed, and Dean arrived.”

“While… you were getting dressed?” Anna clarified, a slight smirk dancing over her lips.

“Yes.” Cas sighed. “Exactly as you’re inferring. Me in my underwear and a soaking wet dress shirt, if you want to laugh further.”

Anna slipped one hand up over her mouth, grinning, but didn’t say anything.

“Dean’s reaction was somewhat unexpected,” Cas confessed.

Immediately, Anna’s mirth was gone, and she frowned again. “How so?”

“He, uh…” Cas flushed. “It was awkward, obviously, but it was sort of clear that he, uh…” Cas reached one hand up to rub at the back of his neck, the other hand gesturing downwards to encompass his own body.

“Liked what he saw?” Anna supplied dryly.

“Yes, Anna,” Cas responded, his eyes firmly on the floor. “There was definitely a, uh, ‘moment’, as people say.”

“But you didn’t do anything stupid, right?” Anna raised an eyebrow, moving over to stand in front of her brother, reaching forward to grip one of his shoulders as he looked at his shoes.

“No. I left. I mean, unless you count meeting him for a drink tomorrow night as stupid.”

Anna blinked. “You asked him out for a drink while you were half naked?”

Cas’s eyes widened comically. “No! No, no. I did that first. Yesterday.”

“Cas.” Anna’s voice was exasperated, but gentle. “Come on, Cassie. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No,” Cas responded glumly to the tile floor. “It’s a dumb idea. Even more so, now.”

Anna reached forward, pulling Cas into a rough, almost chastising hug. “You idiot.” She sighed into his hair as he ducked his forehead down to her shoulder. “You’re going to get hurt again, Cas. I just don’t want him to hurt you again.”

“But…” Cas shrugged almost helplessly within Anna’s hold and mumbled the shameful truth down into her shoulder, “I’m in love with him Anna. I have been for years.”

“I know,” she comforted quietly. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to play with you like before. That wasn’t cool.”

“I know. Maybe it’ll be different.”

“You telling me that, or yourself?”

Cas sighed, and Anna gave his shoulders another squeeze before letting him go.

“Thanks, Anna-banana,” Cas winked, shoving her shoulder as he used the nickname she’d detested as a child. “I needed that.”

“No problem, Cassie.” She paused for a moment, before tilting her head and continuing. “You know, I’d thought maybe you’d started to get over Dean. Started kinda getting into someone else.”

Cas looked up, his smile rueful. “You’re not wrong there either. I don’t know where I’m at right now.”

“Okay, Cas.” Anna patted his shoulder once more. “Just promise me one thing?”

Cas nodded, silent.

“Even if the drink with Dean goes well, don’t do anything until after GISH is over. Just see if maybe Impala feels the same way you do. Just… at least see if you have a choice.”

Slowly, his brow creased in a tight frown, Cas nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam and Gabriel were sprawled all over the couch in Dean’s apartment when he opened the door.

“’Sup Dean-o,” Gabriel called, his gaze never leaving his phone. “Where’ve you been?”

“Just got back from weekly drinks with Charlie and Jo,” Dean answered glumly, hanging up his jacket on the hook inside the door.

Sam tilted his head back into the couch so that he could see Dean walking behind him. “You sound pretty down given you were hanging out with Charlie,” he noted.

“Yeah, well,” Dean huffed. “It was basically an evening of the Charlie-and-Jo show. They were all over each other and happy and shit, and telling me how stupid I am for meeting Cas for this drink tomorrow. Especially after how fucking awkward earlier was.”

Sam nodded knowingly. Gabriel looked confused.

“Earlier? What? I missed stuff,” Gabriel surmised. “How come Sam knows and I don’t?”

“Because Dean called me in a panic while he was driving to the Roadhouse,” Sam filled Gabe in, “and told me that he practically saw Cas naked today. By accident. And he was  _ not _ cool about it.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Seriously Dean? You’ve wanted him for years, get one chance to see the goods, and couldn’t be cool about it?”

“Have you seen him?” Dean exclaimed. “And it turns out he has tattoos! I never knew he had tattoos!” He felt his voice raise an octave higher than necessary.

Sam snickered, and Dean smacked him around the back of his head over the couch.

“Plans for this evening?” Gabriel asked Dean conversationally, drawing away the conversation from Dean’s suddenly discovered tattoo kink.

“GISH,” Dean answered with a shrug. “I need to go check in and see what items we have left.”

“We’re heading out to do a couple of tasks with our team too,” Sam said. “In about thirty minutes. Don’t wait up.”

“Never do!” Dean called behind him as he stepped into the kitchen.

Rooting around in the fridge quickly for a beer, he uncapped it and headed off into his bedroom.

In just a few minutes, he was comfortably settled in his pajama pants, surrounding by AC/DC tour posters and framed Led Zeppelin vinyls. He wasn’t exactly an interior decorator, but this was his little navy cave of comfort, and he loved it. He relaxed back on the bed, laptop spread out on his legs as he sipped his beer.

> **Impala67:** Hey guys! How goes it
> 
> **PieDarling:** GREAT! I got to take the care packages to the domestic violence shelter today. It felt so good to do something to help, even something so little. Wish it could be more, but they were so happy. I had warm fuzzy feelings.
> 
> **Impala67:** I saw your Instagram picture! That’s awesome, Pie. Good job.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hey Impala. I saw the picture you posted on the team insta of your ‘the-saurus’ item! Excellent archaeology.
> 
> **Impala67** : Hey Angel :) what did you get up to today? Didn’t see any pictures
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I had to work, sadly. But I did get one item done while I was there, and I’m doing a couple with @FallenMilton and my nephew tonight.  
> 
> **jscribbles:**  No worries Angel. I’m about to put up a photo – giant googly eyes on a digger. It was fun, though I’m pretty sure the guys at the construction site thought I was crazy.
> 
> **PieDarling:** It’s GISH, we’re all crazy
> 
> **Impala67:** So, what bigger items do we have left? Did @Amandacanzo and your nephew manage to get their traffic cone into space?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** They did! She ended up driving up here to pick him up so they could do it together. They’re driving back to Kansas from Oklahoma tomorrow morning.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** There’s still quite a few bigger point items left, but not any that I can immediately see that we can do. Unless anyone has access to a glacier, or a particle accelerator and Flash costume.
> 
> **Impala67:** Flash like… The Flash? Red suit, yellow lightning bolt?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Google tells me yes.
> 
> **Impala67:** Only you would have to Google that, Angel.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I struggle with popular culture, apologies.
> 
> **Impala67:** I’ve noticed. Ok though… how many points is that particle accelerator thing? And what do we have to do?
> 
> **jscribbles:** Are you seriously implying that you have access to a particle accelerator, Impala?? What the fuck do you do for a living? Are you Batman?
> 
> **Impala67:** No no no…. so one of my best friends has this brother, Ash. He’s crazy smart. Like… on NSA watch lists smart. He just went to UC Berkeley to get a PhD, and I swear he told me they hand one there…
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** They do have one at UC Berkeley
> 
> **AngelofThurday:** I looked it up when the item was originally announced, but I didn’t think we had anyone over there since GrumpyAsian was out
> 
> **jscribbles:** Okay, remember I’m Canadian and forgive my terrible American geography, but isn’t that, like… the other side of the country?
> 
> **Impala67:** It’s only half the country really. But that’s a full day’s drive, still. I don’t mind driving though. Quite like it.
> 
> **Impala67:** I could, if you wanted.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Let’s talk about this privately. It’s a pretty huge time commitment.
> 
> **jscribbles:** “Talk about it privately”. You are the least subtle person ever, Angel.

Dean ignored the teasing and downed the rest of his beer. His finger hovered over the trackpad of his laptop before he clicked over to his direct messages to discuss the item. Was he really considering driving all the way across to California? He knew he could make it with just one stop in Nevada; he’d done it a couple of times while Sam was at Stanford. But now? For this?

Dean sighed. It was probably a lot of points. It’d make his teammates happy. More to the point, it would make Angel happy, not just for the points, but to see how invested Dean had become in their team.  He knew Angel was hoping he’d stick around. Dean was beginning to realize that he wanted to.

_ Shit _ , Dean thought.  _ I’m a mess. Turning into a teenager at the sight of a guy in a wet shirt, who is married. And now thinking of driving across the States to help out a guy who probably doesn’t want anything to do with me. _

Dean put the empty beer bottle down onto the nightstand before turning his attention back to his laptop.

_ Yup. I’ve gone crazy. _

> **Impala67:** Hey Angel.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hello. How was your day today? :)
> 
> **Impala67:** Kinda weird honestly, glad to just be home now and be chatting with all of you guys.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I had a slightly strange day, too. Sometimes GISH can be a great distraction from daily life.
> 
> **Impala67:** Shame it only runs for a week in the summer. I need distracting all year, I think
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Sometimes I feel the same. But they are putting out more frequent tasks now!
> 
> **Impala67:** They are? How?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** There’s a phone app. So we can all stay in touch and do weird things together all year, if we want to :)

Dean grinned. The idea was pleasant, even if a week ago he’d never have considered such a thing.

> **Impala67:** Well, I guess we’ll see when the hunt is over. See if any of your team think I’m good enough to stay
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Of course they do. It’s not MY team, it’s OUR team. They all like you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I’d certainly like you to stick around and do the weekly tasks with us.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** But that is by no means a condition of my friendship. You have that regardless of what you decide about GISH :)

“Dean! We’re headed out!” Sam yelled from the hallway, pulling Dean’s attention away from the laptop for just a second.

“Alright. Bye guys!” he yelled distractedly, concentrating more on how he was going to respond to Angel.

> **Impala67:** I’m glad. I think I’d like to stick around, if that’s cool. I should probably see how life goes after the summer though.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I understand.
> 
> **Impala67:** But no matter what, we should keep in touch. I’m glad I met you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Me too :)
> 
> **Impala67:** Alright, that’s enough sappy stuff! What do I need to do for this item?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** The task is: “ You, dressed as the Flash in the LHC (Large Hadron Collider) tunnel. If this is too difficult, you will get full credit for dressing as the Flash in any actual, operational particle accelerator.”
> 
> **Impala67:** Okay. I think I can do that. The Flash costume is easy; I can grab one at a costume store. I’ll call my friend now and see if he can get me in.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I realize that you are a grown man and need neither my opinion nor my overbearing concern, but is it too much to say I’d worry about you driving across the country by yourself?

Dean spotted Angel’s last message as he was dialing Ash. He couldn’t help but smile. He was more than fine driving by himself, but his friend’s concern was kinda cute.

The phone call was quick—neither Dean nor Ash was really the chat-on-the-phone type. Dean wasn’t especially share-y, and Ash was likely to think that the FBI were listening in or something. It turned out that Ash was glad to hear from him, though. He didn’t seem to think it was strange at all that Dean wanted to hang out at UC Berkeley and run around the particle accelerator dressed as the Flash. Ash was a weird dude himself, it was true, but Dean had anticipated him needing a little more persuading. As it was, it seemed like he was just looking forward to seeing Dean for a couple of hours and welcomed him as soon as he could get there, in costume or not.

> **Impala67:** You’re worried about me driving? Don’t let the team hear you say that, you’ll never live it down ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I should probably apologize for them, but that assumes I have even the tiniest bit of control over what they do, which I do not.
> 
> **Impala67:** It’s cool man, I don’t mind. Mostly, it comes across as them wanting you to be happy. Which is pretty nice of them, even if it’s a lot of teasing. They really think a lot of you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, we’ve all known each other a long time. We’re good friends.
> 
> **Impala67:** Yeah, it shows. Anyway. Wanna know what my friend said?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You spoke to him already? You’re eager!
> 
> **Impala67:** Well, I need to start driving if we’re going to manage to turn the item in on time. He’s perfectly cool with me visiting, and he’s going to clear it to take me to the lab.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** So you’re driving to California?
> 
> **Impala67:** I’ll set off bright and early in the morning. But here’s the deal -  you have to keep me company. I know you have to go to work, but as much as you can, I will require you to entertain me while I drive ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You shouldn’t text and drive, you know.
> 
> **Impala67:** I can use voice to text, dork. I’m not a tech person, but even I know that.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well then, that is a deal I am extremely happy to agree to. :)

 

***

 

Bright and early, Dean filled up the biggest travel mug he could find with fresh ground coffee and left a note for Sam on the kitchen table.

_ Headed out for a GISH item. Be back Saturday. Visiting Ash at Berkeley. Don’t let Gabe trash my apartment. – Dean _

He grabbed a few snacks from the pantry and threw them into the top of the duffle bag he had packed the night before, after agreeing with Angel that he’d make the drive.

The morning was crisp and cool, the sun barely rising as Dean slipped out of the apartment and made his way down to the car. Baby grumbled at the temperature but warmed to a welcoming purr by the time Dean pulled her out onto the street.

He had a long drive ahead of him; he wanted to be in Nevada by the time he had to stop, which was about fifteen hours of driving. That was pushing it even for him. But he figured if he started early, stopped for lunch and kept himself alert, he should be fine.

He’d already been on the road for three hours by the time Angel woke up.

> **AngelofThursday:** Good morning. Are you driving already?
> 
> **Impala67:** Sure am. Been on the road 3 hours, eagerly waiting to hear from you ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I haven’t even been awake an hour. I’m at work but still trying to adjust to being upright.
> 
> **Impala67:** Don’t like mourning much?
> 
> **Impala67:** mornings
> 
> **Impala67:** stupid voice to text.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Mornings are awful. A punishment from the gods, I’m sure. It takes me several coffees to even vocalize in the mornings. Luckily my coworkers are understanding.
> 
> **Impala67:** I work with someone like that, lol.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I almost forgot to bring my GISH stuff to work. Hoping to get some more progress made on one of my items during lunch.
> 
> **Impala67:** Which one?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** The “Domi-knit-rix” item
> 
> **Impala67:** Dude, you can knit?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I can.
> 
> **Impala67:** Is there anything you can’t do?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Lots of things. I have had chances to learn a lot of skills thanks to GISH, but they are often unhelpful in daily life.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I can knit a bullwhip, but I can’t change a tire.
> 
> **Impala67:** Well, I got you on the tires, but the next time I need a good whipping I’m coming to you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I’m glad I didn’t have to ask my sister if I was reading too much into that one.

Dean grinned to himself, quickly checking his GPS before he moved into a different lane on the highway, getting ready to head into Colorado. The easy chatting and flirtation that he’d fallen into with Angel since they’d first met was fun and made for great company on a long ride.

There were long stretches where Angel had to disappear, doing things for his job, but that was okay. Dean had never crossed the line into asking many questions about Angel’s personal life beyond what he volunteered. There seemed to be a distinct etiquette for talking to people online and he wasn’t quite sure how that applied to Angel and him, now that they seemed to have entered this tentative flirting stage.

He hadn’t asked for his real name, or what he did for a living, but he knew he was in his late thirties and lived somewhere relatively close by, as he’d mentioned a couple of landmarks that Dean was familiar with. He knew that Angel lived with his sister and nephew, and that he hadn’t been in a relationship for several years. He knew that he was gay but had lost his virginity to a girl when he was twenty-two. He knew a lot about Angel, really. Just not the dull, day-to-day details.

Or what he looked like.

Dean drove all day, stopping at a roadside diner for a quick lunch. He spent most of it chatting with Angel, covering a plethora of topics from Angel’s deepest secret—that he wanted to quit his job and write children’s books—to what they’d do if they won the lottery, and the fact that two gay penguins in a zoo had adopted a baby. Marveling at the random crap that they could come up with to talk about, Dean hopped back onto the road.

Much later in the afternoon, Dean pulled into a gas station. He took a couple of minutes to walk around and stretch his legs, as he’d only stopped for gas and one bathroom break so far, and he didn’t want to get stiff.

Walking around in the fresh air, he decided to take a browse through the photographs that Adventuring Angels had posted of all their items so far.

_ Just seeing how the team is getting on, _ he told himself.  _ Definitely not looking to see if there are any pictures of Angel. _

After scrolling for a minute, Dean couldn’t find any of Angel’s submissions since Monday.

> **Impala67:** What’s up with your GISH submissions, dude? Can’t see any since Monday!
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I know, I know. Amanda has already given me grief about it.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I’ve got plenty of pictures, I just haven’t cropped them or got them up on Instagram yet.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Surprisingly, given how many years I’ve done GISH, I suck at social media stuff.
> 
> **Impala67:** I feel you on that. Me too.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I did finish my current item at lunch though! I’m quite proud of it actually. I’m almost home, give me a few minutes and I’ll take a picture.

Dean filled up Baby with her favorite premium gasoline and grabbed a coffee from the gas station before he climbed back into the driver’s seat. Four more hours and he’d be over the Nevada border, and he could search for a place to sleep.

He was just putting his phone down to pull out of the parking lot, when Angel’s picture arrived in their Discord chat.

Glancing over at it, Dean suddenly slammed on the brakes.

_ Holy shit. _

It was a good thing he’d only been in the parking lot, because it was going to take him a moment to get driving again after that image.

Angel had really gone all out with his “domi-knit-rix” costume.

_ Where do you even get leather yarn?  _ Dean pondered.

The photograph had clearly been taken by Angel’s sister, as his entire body was in the frame. And oh, what a body it was… Angel had produced a full set of hand-knit BDSM gear. From the gimp mask that covered his face, down to the high-necked, sleeved corset that revealed a slither of marble abs and the tiny underwear that stretched very enticingly over everything Angel had to offer. He’d even got the accessories; a sturdy, wooly bullwhip in one hand, and a carefully knitted ball-gag swinging jauntily from the other. He was angled sideways toward the camera, whipping at it playfully.

Dean couldn’t see his face, but there was absolutely no doubt about it; Angel was  _ hot _ .

Dean squinted at the picture, trying to make out what the marking on Angel’s tight, muscled thigh was supposed to be.

> **Impala67:** Dude, you have some serious knitting skills
> 
> **Impala67:** And clearly some insider knowledge of the BDSM scene that we should really talk about one day
> 
> **Impala67:** But my biggest question is, what the hell is that tattoo on your thigh supposed to be?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** The Pope.
> 
> **Impala67:** The Pope?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Pope Francis , the 266th and current Pope and sovereign of the Vatican City State.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** It was a GISH item, in my defense.
> 
> **Impala67:** Fucking hell, I haven’t laughed that hard in years…
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I do have several other tattoos, too.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I have some occult symbols that my older brother talked me into getting when I was drunk in college and a back piece.
> 
> **Impala67:** What’s that of?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Wings. It’s pretty sizeable, covers my whole back. Black feathers.
> 
> **Impala67:** Oh, okay. Wow.
> 
> **AngelofThursday** : You sound unsure. Do you have an objection to tattoos?
> 
> **Impala67:** Nah, not at all dude. They’re pretty hot, if you want me to be honest here
> 
> **Impala67:** Please don’t tell the pope I called him hot
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Your secret is safe with me.

Around an hour later, Angel said he had to go, as he needed to get ready to go out. Dean was surprised to feel an odd twinge of jealousy, but tried to brush it aside. Just a few more days until GISH was done, he told himself. Then he’d see if Angel was interested. At least then, he’d know.

Still wanting a little company for the last leg of his drive for the day, Dean thumbed his way through his phone contacts until he got to his brother.

“Hey, Sam.”

“What’s up Dean? Are you still driving?”

“Yeah, just headed into Nevada.”

“Dude,” Sam laughed. “You are crazy. You’re driving all the way to see Ash, for what? A GISH item?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, even though Sam couldn’t see him. “Why not?”

“Got nothing better to do on a Thursday evening?” Sam questioned, sounding amused.

Dean suddenly sat more upright in his seat, gripping hard onto the steering wheel. “Wait—what did you say?”

“Got nothing better to do on a Thursday…?” Sam repeated, confused.

“Shit.” Dean groaned loudly. “It’s Thursday.”

“Yes,” Sam repeated slowly. “Are you okay? Can you smell toast?”

“I’m fine—" Dean snapped, though he cut himself off, trying not to take it out on Sam. “Sorry. Not your fault. I messed up.”

Sam was quiet, knowing his brother well enough to just wait.

“I was supposed to meet Cas for a drink today,” Dean sighed, taking his eyes off the road for the brief second it took him to check the time. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“You forgot?” Sam asked carefully.

“I guess so. I was distracted.”

“By GISH,” Sam commented carefully, before adding, “Well. Not GISH itself. By that dude you’ve been talking to.”

Dean could almost feel Sam’s bitch-face searing him through the phone, the eye roll so dramatic it almost made a sound.

“I guess.”

“You seriously spaced on a potential-maybe-kinda-date with the guy you’ve been wanting for  _ three years _ ,” Sam clarified, “because you’re zooming to the other side of the country talking to a dude you met on the internet that you don’t know the name of, or even what he looks like.”

“I mean, I kinda know what he looks like.”

“Kinda?”

“Parts of him.”

“ _ Dean. _ ” Sam sounded appalled.

“Woah, no—no.” Dean laughed. “No, not what I meant. GISH photos and stuff. Not like… weird sexting.”

“Well, maybe you should get with the weird sexting Dean,” Sam responded dryly. “Because even if Cas has miraculously left his wife, noticed you exist and wanted to have an actual discussion with you after all these years? Even if? You’ve probably royally fucked it up now.”

Dean sighed.  _ Shit. _


	8. Chapter 8

“Black coffee with honey?” The campus barista called over the morning rush, slotting a paper cup into a cardboard sleeve and pushing it across the slightly sticky counter.

Cas nodded, giving her what he hoped was a warm smile, and managed to mumble something that, if he was lucky, passed for “thank you”.

_ God, I’m glad it’s Friday,  _ Cas thought to himself, wrapping his hand around the warm cup as he shuffled silently through the corridors to his office. He slurped up a tiny splash of coffee that had worked its way out of the drinking hole in the lid and scowled. Coffee was coffee, sure, but it just wasn’t as good as when Dean got it.

_ Dean. _

Cas sighed, lowering himself down to his desk. He slowly tapped his passcode into his phone, taking three attempts to get it right, sleep-drugged as he was. He pulled up the texts he’d received from Dean the night before.

**Dean:** Hey Cas, I’m so sorry I didn’t make it tonight. Something came up. Maybe we can try again another night? Whenever you want, just name the day. I’m really sorry.

**Dean:** Just let me know.

**Dean:** Sorry Cas.

The first text had come while he was still at the bar, the second two over the course of the evening.

Cas hadn’t responded yet.

His first instinct of course, had been to immediately respond to tell Dean it was okay, and rearrange for another day. But the truth was, it  _ wasn’t _ okay.

Anna and Jack had been putting together a box of donations for a nearby animal shelter, another GISH item, when he’d returned home the night before. He’d been upset, he’d admit that, but Anna had sat him down and made him talk about it, rather than letting him wallow.

While his sister hadn’t come straight out and told him that he should decline Dean’s invitation to go out another night, her preference had been pretty clear. She wasn’t trying to be controlling, Cas knew. They’d been close all of their lives, and Cas knew she was just looking out for him. She’d even said, in the kitchen just the day before, that she was worried he’d get hurt.

_ Damnit, why’d she have to be right? _

Anna had a very irritating habit of being right.

Cas read back through the texts one more time. Dean seemed genuinely apologetic and wanted to meet again. But still, the feeling Cas had in his chest was remarkably like the one he’d had when Dean had accepted his invitation to come over back when they’d first met, only to balk at the doorway and distance himself completely.

_ It didn’t mean anything, anyway,  _ Cas told himself.  _ It was just a drink with a coworker, to him. _

Cas’s fingers hovered over the keypad for a minute, still hesitating, even though he knew what he wanted to do. Taking another swig of coffee, he typed out the message quickly.

**Cas:** Hello Dean. No worries, it happens.

**Cas:** No need to arrange another drink. We’ll see each other at work on Monday, for another two weeks until the year ends.

**Cas:** That’s enough.

Hopefully that was clear to Dean. It was clear to him, most importantly, as in a round-about way, he’d said what he needed to say.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Cas proceeded to ignore it and focus on getting his summer school students to understand the subtextual clues in Shakespeare’s tragedies.

 

***

 

Cas had a quiet afternoon. His office was open to students for one-on-one help, but only two people actually needed assistance; his Friday sessions were always quiet, as most students would rather leave any questions until the next week than deal with them after lunch on a Friday.

Cas couldn’t blame them, though. He didn’t particularly feel like being there either.

Thanks to his and Dean’s constant efforts to stay on top of things, he only had a handful of essays left to grade for the week. So, he spread them out on his desk and got to work.

It was good to have something to focus on where he knew exactly what he was doing.

In between papers, he checked his phone periodically.

Impala was in California. He’d completed the item just before lunch, he’d said, and was now eating burgers and catching up with his friend before driving back home. Impala hadn’t seemed as excited to be there, or to get the item done, as Cas had expected. He seemed a little down, though he hadn’t told Cas why or said anything about it.

_ I don’t have any right to know,  _ Cas cautioned himself.  _ We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks. _

Nonetheless, he figured there was no harm in asking. So, after his next paper, he pushed the remaining stack aside for a minute and pulled over his phone.

> **AngelofThursday** : How’s it going over there?
> 
> **Impala67:** Not too bad, I guess. Just finished lunch with my friend, so I’m back on the road.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You haven’t been super chatty this morning
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Which is fine, of course. You don’t have to talk to me all of the time. Or at all.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I guess I’m just wondering if you’re okay? Did something happen?
> 
> **AngelofThursday** : Not that you have to tell me even if it did
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I was just wondering
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Sorry if that’s weird.
> 
> **Impala67:** Stop
> 
> **Impala67:** You’re being silly, dude. Relax.
> 
> **Impala67:** Of course you can ask if I’m okay. You can ask me anything you want.
> 
> **Impala67:** I like talking to you. I like you.

Cas found himself blushing a little. He shook his head at himself, running a hand across his face in faint, bitter amusement. Impala didn’t have to mean he liked him in  _ that _ way. Just because Impala was flirty sometimes when they talked online, didn’t mean that he meant anything by it. It might not translate to anything real, and Cas was very aware of that.

Nonetheless, he had to admit that he hoped.

_ As if my love life isn’t a total tragedy already,  _ Cas considered.  _ Could I be any more of an idiot? _

> **AngelofThursday:** Well good. I like you too :)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** So…are you okay? You seem off. Talk to me.
> 
> **Impala67:** It’s just been a bit of a strange week for me in my personal life.
> 
> **Impala67:** I’ve made some pretty dumb decisions this week and I’m kinda beating myself up over it
> 
> **Impala67:** I spoke to my brother about it though, and he thinks it’s for the best. I believe him.
> 
> **Impala67:** I’m not really good at talking about stuff. Would rather just distract myself.
> 
> **Impala67:** Very glad for GISH this week, honestly
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Me too. I’ve definitely not made the best decisions this week either. Though I think I managed to make the right one in the end and cut things off.
> 
> **Impala67:** Oh? Cut things off? You break up with somebody? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone…
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I wasn’t. Still not. It was more just one of those slightly unhealthy things you keep going back to, even if you know you shouldn’t.
> 
> **Impala67:** Man, do I understand that.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** But this isn’t about me, it’s about you.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** So what shall we talk about to distract you? :)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You’re going to be on the road all day again, right?
> 
> **Impala67** : Yeah, I am. I’ll stop somewhere in Colorado tonight and finish the last bit home in the morning, though.
> 
> **Impala67:** Kinda drained and feeling shitty, so… thanks for wanting to keep me company. You’re pretty awesome.
> 
> **Impala67:** So, tell me more about this kids’ book you dream of writing to start with, and when I stop for gas I’ll show you the picture I got at UC Berkeley :)

Cas smiled down at his phone. He was more than happy to keep Impala company as much as he could while he drove. Looking back over their hundreds of messages from the past couple of weeks, Cas became more and more determined that he’d made the right choice.

GISH would be over in just a couple of days. Once it was, and the pressure was off, he’d ask Impala if he’d be interested in meeting up. If maybe this thing they had could be something more. Cas certainly hoped it could. For now, he’d try and think of little things he could do to cheer his friend up while he journeyed back to Kansas.

 

***

 

“Uncle Cas, hurry up and take the picture before it falls apart.” Jack grinned as he posed out in the backyard of Cas’s neat townhouse. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

Anna was bent down, smoothing out the legs of the toilet-paper tuxedo that her son was sporting, getting everything poised just so. “This looks surprisingly great on you, Jack. You should wear a white suit to prom,” she mused.

Jack crinkled his nose. “No thank you. Only villains and creepy people wear all-white suits.”

Cas chuckled, angling his phone carefully to make sure he had the entire creation in the picture. “Okay, Jack. Smile!”

Once they’d confirmed the picture was okay, Jack had a couple minutes of fun ripping his way out of the carefully constructed paper outfit. While he balled it all up and shoved it into a recycling bag, Cas dawdled back in the house and moved to the kitchen, where he had an easel and paints set up.

Proud of his nephew, Cas quickly sent the photo to his GISH team chat.

> **PieDarling:** Angel!!! Your nephew is ADORABLE!  Great tuxedo, kid.
> 
> **Amandacanzo** : Can confirm, he is lovely. We had a ton of fun on the items he helped me with. Smart kid!
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Are you going to get that photo uploaded with all the rest that you owe us, Angel??
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, I promise, as soon as I’m done nose-painting.
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** That’s going to be a picture worth seeing, I have a feeling.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Don’t doubt my nose-art talents!

Cas grinned to himself, grabbing his painting apron from the back of the chair in the kitchen. He quickly clicked over to his chat with Impala before he resumed his GISH item, just wanting to check in.

> **AngelofThursday:** How’s it going? Almost there?
> 
> **Impala67:** Yeah, just parked up and getting my bag out of the car
> 
> **Impala67:** Thanks for finding me an open motel dude, I appreciate it… saves driving around
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** No problem. Very minor googling and sending you a phone number, it wasn’t a big deal.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I just finished helping my nephew with his last GISH item, then I’m going to finish up this painting…then that’s it for me too. Last task!
> 
> **Impala67:** Guess that’s what the buzz in the other chat is about. I haven’t checked that chat for hours, and I’m too worn out from driving to dive in now
> 
> **Impala67:** I think I’ll take a nap. I’m super hungry but too tired to go anywhere so I’ll set an alarm for an hour
> 
> **Impala67:** Then when I wake up I’ll see how the team is doing, check out everyone’s photos and get the rest of mine up there
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Sounds like a good idea.
> 
> **Impala67:** Here’s a sneak preview of my last item though!
> 
> **Impala67:** Catch you later.

Cas quickly fired off a little waving hand emoji while he waited for Impala’s sneak peek to come through on his phone.

He turned away for a moment, moving across to the sink so that he could prepare the damp rag he knew he was about to need for his face. When he returned to the easel and phone, Impala’s item video had loaded.

Cas let out his breath in one noisy huff.  _ Oh. Uh, okay. _

He hadn’t expected to be surprised by the little clip; Impala was going to be in costume from head to toe, after all. He just hadn’t considered that the costume would be so… tight.

The Stormtrooper costume he’d already seen Impala in didn’t give Cas much of an impression of the man beyond the fact that he was fairly tall, probably an inch or two taller than Cas himself, and that he was clearly fit enough to be flexible.

Even though the red and gold superhero costume that the man in the video wore covered him from bottom to top, it certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination. Cas watched as Impala ran across the screen, through what appeared to be a giant tube that curved around out of sight, then came quickly back again in the other direction. Cas didn’t know much about particle accelerators, but there was a helpful sign on the wall talking about accelerator safety, so clearly that was what he was seeing.

Cas had no qualms about admitting that Impala appeared to have exactly the kind of body that he liked. He was slim and muscled, no doubt about that; the tightness of the costume as it pulled across his shoulders and butt making it obvious. But there was a softness to his form in places that was even more pleasing; clearly he was healthy, but he didn’t spend every hour at the gym. That seemed to make sense from what he’d heard of Impala’s taste in food and distaste for his brother’s constant running.

Looking around the kitchen as if he was doing something naughty, Cas quickly watched the video a couple more times before anyone could come in and disturb him.

_ Yes, _ he considered.  _ I definitely made the right choice to try and pursue that… him. Him. _

Embarrassed to be objectifying the guy so much, even in his own mind, Cas cleared his throat and exited out of the video, switching back to his chat with Impala.

He scrolled back through the last few messages and pondered what he could do this evening to make Impala’s bad day even just a tiny bit better. He grinned suddenly, coming up with a little idea.

“Hey Jack,” he called out to the living room, “Could you grab my wallet off the coffee table and bring it here?”

A couple of minutes later, Jack’s blond hair and bright blue eyes popped around the kitchen door, and an arm shot forward, throwing Cas his wallet.

“What are you up to?” Jack questioned curiously, watching with a barely hidden smirk as Cas almost missed the wallet, fumbling.

“Making someone smile,” Cas answered with a secret little grin.


	9. Chapter 9

The alarm on Dean’s phone vibrated loudly, making it scud across the top of the nightstand next to his bed in the cheap chain motel. He groped for it, sliding his fingers across the screen and flailing around until he managed to silence the bell.

He exhaled heavily against the slightly scratchy motel pillowcase, rolling onto his back once again. He knew he should get up, but he was weary from all the driving. He was also still feeling sulky and off, having accidentally screwed things up with Cas.

_ Not that there was anything to screw up,  _ he reminded himself.  _ Married, remember. _

He smiled against the fabric of the pillow, recalling how Angel had gone out of his way to spend time with him and cheer him up. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.

The bed was warm, and it was so tempting to stay under the covers.

_ Five minutes,  _ he battled with himself. But if he went back to sleep now, there was no way he’d get to sleep in a few hours when he actually needed to.

“Ugh,” Dean grumbled under his breath. “Being an adult all the time sucks.”

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he was in the middle of enjoying a huge yawn when there was a knock at the door.

Dean frowned. He was in the middle of Colorado; he certainly wasn’t expecting guests, and he’d only checked in an hour ago, so it was unlikely to be housekeeping.

Struggling up off the bed, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands quickly before pulling the door open.

In front of him stood a young, confused looking delivery boy. His name tag said “Alfie,” and he wore a baseball cap with the name of a local diner on it.

“You drive a ‘67 Impala?” the kid asked, looking uncertain.

Dean looked even more uncertain. “Yes?”

“Great.” The kid grinned. “This is the third room I’ve tried. The motel owners weren’t certain. This is for you.” He pushed a heavy paper bag and a drink tray into Dean’s hands.

Dean blinked. “What—” He paused, sniffing the bag. It smelled amazing.

The kid turned and began to walk away from the room.

“Wait,” Dean called. “I at least need to tip you!”

The kid waved back over his shoulder, hopping onto a tiny blue scooter a few spaces up. “Tip’s already covered!” he called. “Enjoy!”

Moving into the motel room, Dean lifted his foot back behind him to kick the door closed as he cradled the bag of food in one hand, holding the drink in the other. He could already smell fries, even without opening the top, and his mouth was watering.

Putting the bag down onto the bed, he perched on the edge of the mattress as he unloaded everything within. Two cheeseburgers and a big portion of fries went with the strawberry milkshake that he’d placed on the nightstand. Beneath that, Dean found a clamshell with two slices of pie; one apple, one cherry.

Folded at the bottom was a piece of paper.

Frowning, Dean pulled it out. He took a deep breath before he unfurled it, not even sure why he was nervous. The paper was a note recording a telephone order for the food. At the bottom, whoever had taken the order had written a note from the caller.

“Sorry you had a bad day. I’d have asked if I could take you out for these in person if you were in Kansas, but even though you’re so far away, I’m hoping they can still put a smile on your face. – Angel,” Dean read aloud, a smile breaking out across his face even as he spoke.

_ Of course, it was Angel, _ Dean realized.  _ No one else even knows where I am, other than in a general sense. _

Dean didn’t bother to ignore the warm feeling that spread through his chest this time, didn’t push it away, didn’t fight it. He just basked in it, grinning like an idiot.

He quickly unwrapped one of the burgers, sinking his teeth into it with a happy groan, before he turned to grab his phone from the nightstand.

> **Impala67:** Hey you :)
> 
> **AngelofThursday** : Ahh, you’re awake. Good nap?
> 
> **Impala67:** Very good. Perfected by the arrival of a surprise dinner from a certain someone ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You’re welcome :)
> 
> **Impala67:** Dude, thank you. This is honestly one of the nicest things I think anyone has ever done for me.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** It was nothing, really
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** You had a bad day, I just wanted to help
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** And making you smile makes me happier, so it was all good.
> 
> **Impala67:** You’re awesome.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Go eat :) I need to go wash my face, I just finished painting.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Then I need to get my photos updated before Amanda drives up from OK to beat me.
> 
> **Impala67:** Ha, fair enough. For your own safety, go do that. We’ll catch up in a bit.

Dean stared down at his phone for a moment. Reaching for his second burger, he swallowed it down with vigor before pulling the package of fries into his lap. He picked one up and chewed it idly as he pulled his phone up to his ear, hitting his brother’s number on his speed dial.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam answered. “How are the glorious run-down motels of I-70 treating you?”

“Better than you’d think,” Dean admitted with a smile.

“You sound like you’re in a better mood,” Sam said.

“Yeah,” Dean said, feeling oddly uncertain. “I, uh… Angel sent me dinner. The guy from my GISH team.”

“He sent you dinner? How?” Sam sounded puzzled.

“He knew what motel I was in, so he called a diner across the street and had them deliver.”

“So, he knows your name at least, now?”

“No,” Dean explained, grinning, “he worked out what car I drove and sent them to find me.”

“Like that’s hard to work out,” Sam sighed. “Alright then. So, what is this? Explain. Because last time we spoke you were pining over Cas.”

Dean paused, thinking. He stretched out, spreading his legs out across the basic motel comforter as he picked at a fry.

“Well,” he began after a minute. “I don’t know what it is right now. But I guess I kinda… know what I’d like it to be?”

Dean was unprepared for how delighted Sam’s voice was.

“That’s awesome, Dean. So, you really like this guy?”

“You’ve changed your tune,” Dean said, amused. “Wasn’t I crazy just the other day? Didn’t know who he was, that kinda thing?”

“Oh, you’re still crazy. But he can’t be that bad if he’s making that much effort,” Sam admitted, before thoughtfully adding, “unless he’s a serial killer, of course.”

“Thanks,” Dean said dryly.

“Welcome,” Sam trilled, and Dean could hear him grinning like an asshole. “For real though, I’m fairly confident everything is okay. But if you arrange to meet him, just… call me or something. So I know if you’re alive.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

“Oh shut up,” Sam grumbled. “Like you wouldn’t say the same.”

“Eileen isn’t a murderer.”

“She might be soon, now she’s met Gabriel,” Sam said. “She doesn’t take any of his shit. It’s both hilarious and slightly scary.”

“I like her more and more,” Dean replied with a grin.

“So, what are you going to do about this GISH dude?” Sam asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“What should I do?”

“Dean,” Sam said bluntly, “anything that isn’t ‘pine over a lost cause for three years’ is an improvement for you. Just tell the guy you’ve gone all mushy for him and does he wanna come over and hold hands.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

“It might.”

Chuckling despite himself, Dean shook his head. “Alright. Well. I need to get my GISH pictures uploaded before the night is out, and I have a lot of footage of me in a very tight superhero costume to edit.”

“Gross. Don’t send it to me.”

“Bye, Sam.”

“See you tomorrow. Drive safe,” Sam tagged on before he hung up.

 

***

 

The pie slices had both gone down like a dream, and Dean was reclined back against the headboard in his motel room, enjoying his just-slightly-too-full stomach.

With a content sigh, he pushed up slightly so that he could pull his laptop out of the top of the duffle bag that sat on the floor next to the bed. Loading it up, he stretched out, crossing his ankles and deciding to catch up on the GISH team chat before he did anything else.

Once Discord loaded, Dean scrolled back up to earlier in the day so he could start catching up.

There were a ton of new pictures: beards covered in glitter and succulents, poems projected onto political buildings, people bungee jumping, zombies playing croquet, people doing chores for elderly neighbors, donating to charity, doing random acts of kindness.

Dean found, to his surprise, that he was intensely proud of his team. Of these people he didn’t even know a couple of weeks ago, but now couldn’t imagine not knowing.

After a few minutes of scrolling, he came across a picture of a teenage boy in an impressive-looking toilet-paper tuxedo.

_ That must be Angel’s nephew,  _ he realized. He knew that the kid had been doing items with Angel, his sister, and Amanda, but Angel hadn’t let him into the chat with the rest of the team very often.

Quite right, really, considering how inappropriate they could all be, Angel included.

Dean squinted at the picture. Something about the kid looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Had he met him somewhere, seen him somewhere? He did live in Kansas, after all. Dean didn’t really know that many children, so he couldn’t work out where he’d have seen a sixteen-year-old in the first place.

He frowned thoughtfully, but in the end, shrugged one shoulder and scrolled on to the end of the chat.

He plugged his phone into the laptop, so he could edit the video from the particle collider and upload it. They had a sixty second limit for video submissions; his plan was to speed the video up, to make it fit within the guidelines and make it look like the Flash was sprinting at inhuman speed.

It only took a few seconds, even with Dean’s very basic editing knowledge, and he had the video ready to submit. Once it was uploaded, he dropped the link into the Discord chat.

> **Impala67:** Hey guys
> 
> **Impala67:** Guess which team is gonna get 269 points!
> 
> **jscribbles:** Shit dude, you did it! It’s a fucking particle accelerator!
> 
> **FallenMilton** : Nice costume, Impala :P
> 
> **Impala67:** It was the only size they had
> 
> **jscribbles:** No one is complaining. Has Angel seen that yet? ;)
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** 269!!
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** @Impala67, you did great.
> 
> **jscribbles:** WTF AMANDA
> 
> **jscribbles:** YOU HAVE NEVER SAID THAT TO ME
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Well, you’ve never driven across the country to get us 269 points
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** try harder
> 
> **jscribbles:** @AngelofThursday where are you
> 
> **jscribbles:** Did you see your boy’s ass in this costume
> 
> **jscribbles:** He’s giving the ladies palpitations and turning Amanda NICE
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** There is literally no way I can respond to that without it being awkward for someone or other.
> 
> **FallenMilton:** Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy that video @AngelofThursday.
> 
> **FallenMilton:** You can’t lie to me, baby brother.
> 
> **FallenMilton:**  You’ve been on your phone half the afternoon… I can’t imagine WHAT you could be watching??
> 
> **jscribbles:** Hahaha!
> 
> **Impala67** : You guys are the worst.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Sisters are the worst. Moving on.

Dean leaned back on the headboard, stifling a laugh. He’d never been one to be embarrassed about his body, and the teasing didn’t bother him. He found himself hoping it wasn’t bothering Angel, either. He quickly switched over to message him directly.

> **Impala67:** Hey
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hello, again. I’m so sorry about my sister. And the rest of them. They think they’re funny.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** and jscribbles means well, actually. We’ve been friends a long time. She’s invested in me doing better than the last guy I tried to date, I think.
> 
> **Impala67:** To be fair, they are pretty funny.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** It’s embarrassing. I’m not very good at flirting like that, so my sister and my best friends seem to think it’s hilarious to do it for me.
> 
> **Impala67:** Do it for you, huh? So you did like the costume? ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Now I feel like you’re making fun of me
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** But yes, I did like it. You have a very pleasing form, that much is clear.

Dean snorted at Angel’s formal phrasing, and almost gave in to the temptation to tease him a little more. Instead, he decided to give him a bit of a break.

> **Impala67:** Well thank you. Coming from a guy who looks that attractive in BDSM knitwear with his face covered, that’s quite a compliment.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, you’re welcome
> 
> **Impala67:** So, I was wondering if I could ask you something
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Go ahead. I’m just sticking my nose-painting pictures into the other chat.
> 
> **Impala67:** GISH is going to be pretty much over by the time I get home. I’m kinda gonna miss having a reason to talk to you every day, dude
> 
> **Impala67:** So, I was actually wondering if maybe you’d want to get dinner sometime, just you and me? I don’t know where you live exactly, but I don’t think you’re that far
> 
> **Impala67** : And if you’re interested in maybe seeing me outside of this, maybe we could call it a date?
> 
> **Impala67:** I don’t know if that’s weird, or anything. But getting to know you has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. So… just let me know.

Feeling nervous, Dean clicked out of his direct messages and went back to the GISH chat. He wanted to check out the pictures Angel was uploading of his final GISH item, and to give him space to come up with a reply. Staring at the chat window waiting for him to type was oddly nerve-wracking.

Dean read that Angel was going to make a collage of the images later that evening, but he wanted to share the raw images with the group. As Dean watched, a couple of photos popped up in the group.

The first image was of a fully painted canvas. It had a sky-blue background, and the foreground was taken up with the depiction of a soaring black bird, diving through clouds. It was slightly lumpy, sure, but Dean thought it was pretty damn good for having been painted with a nose.

The next picture made Dean’s brain short-circuit.

Staring out from the screen, grinning widely enough to show his pointy incisors, was Cas.

His Cas.

His nose was covered in black paint, and there were smudges of blue and white and shades of black and gray all over his face. He looked happy, and goofy, and proud.

Dean blinked, watching as a message rolled in from Angel, complaining about canvas being rough and his nose being sore.

No, a message from  _ Cas, _ Dean corrected, mentally.

_ Holy shit. _

In a panic, Dean slammed his laptop shut.

 

***

 

“Dean?” Sam sounded confused as he picked up the phone.

“Hey, Sam.” Dean took a deep breath.

“We spoke half an hour ago, dude. What’s up?”

“Oh, uh,” Dean mumbled. “Are you busy?”

“Not really, I guess. I mean, Gabriel is on the couch trying to drink himself to death because he saw Kali out in town with some guy, but what’s new?”

Despite his own troubles, Dean winced. “Oh. Tell him I’m sorry.”

“I will. So, what’s with the call?”

“I’ve been pacing around my hotel room like an idiot for the past twenty minutes because I—I don’t really know what to do now.”

“What happened?” Sam’s voice was concerned, and Dean could picture his gentle frown.

“So, my GISH guy, Angel? Yeah, turns out he’s Cas.”

There was silence for a moment, while Sam processed. Eventually he responded. “Cas, like… Professor Novak, Cas?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Does he know it’s you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You have to tell him, Dean.”

“I stood him up, Sam! By accident, but still! And he—wait, what about Anna?”

“Dean,” Sam said slowly. “Wait a minute. You said… Dean!”

“What?”

Sam was laughing all of a sudden and speaking very fast. “Dean you absolute  _ idiot!”  _ he exclaimed. “Anna was never his wife! She was his  _ sister.” _

Slowly, the pieces clicked together in his brain. “Fuck,” Dean muttered, slumping down on the edge of the bed and lowering his head into his empty hand. “How did I mess this up so badly?”

“I don’t know if you did,” Sam said thoughtfully. “To me, all it looks like you’ve done is fall for the same guy, twice. He never rejected you, Dean—you just thought he did. Maybe if you explain…”

Dean blinked. Sam was right, but… boy, was this going to take some explaining.

He had that evening, plus a five-hour drive back to Kansas the next morning, to come up with a plan.


	10. Chapter 10

 

> **AngelofThursday:** Impala, I’m honestly going to miss having an excuse to talk to you every day, too.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** But it seems like we don’t need an excuse :)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I would love to go on a date with you. To tell the truth, I had planned on asking you if you’d be interested in meeting me as soon as GISH was done. You just beat me to it
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** And honestly, same. Meeting you has been a bright spot in my life.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** @Impala67
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Everything okay?
> 
> **Impala67:** Yes
> 
> **Impala67:** Sorry
> 
> **Impala67:** I am super tired and I think I should sleep, so I can hit the road early in the morning
> 
> **Impala67:** But this is good. We should talk about this more tomorrow exchange details and stuff, but... I’m excited. I like you, Angel. A lot.

Cas cradled his coffee as he leaned onto the kitchen table, still staring at the messages he’d shared with Impala the night before.

He couldn’t quite believe that something seemed to be going right for once. This was new, and different, but somehow it felt right.

As it was the weekend, Cas had slept in. He’d been up late with the rest of the team while Impala rested, squeezing in the last small items they could manage and just chatting about the Hunt. It had been a great GISH week, though he knew there was a part of everyone that was looking forward to resting and just getting back to normal life.

Anna lowered herself into the seat opposite him, already fully dressed, compared to Cas’s worn t-shirt and sleep pants.

“Back to normal life huh, Cas?”

“I was just thinking that, actually,” he replied, his voice gravel.

“How do you still sound asleep? It’s almost lunch time,” Anna questioned, shaking her head. “Jack and I got up at seven.”

Cas shuddered. “On your day off? What’s wrong with you?”

“I had some house viewings this morning, and a couple more this afternoon.” Anna smiled.

“Oh,” Cas responded quietly, unsure.

“Cassie, you’ve been so patient, having Jack and me here while we saved up for our own place. But we’re okay now,” Anna offered, smiling gently. “We need to get out of your hair. Plus, if you take that other job, you’ll have to move anyway, right?”

Cas nodded slowly, staring down at his coffee.

Anna began to stand again, but Cas spoke up before she could.

“Impala said that he likes me,” he blurted out. “Last night. He, uh, he asked me out. On a date. Now that GISH is over.”

Anna sat back down immediately, a slow smile spreading over her face. “Cas! That’s great!”

“I’m nervous,” Cas confessed.

“Why?” Anna laughed, kicking his shin under the table. “You’re awesome.”

“What if he doesn’t like me when he meets me? What if he runs, like—”

“He is not Dean,” Anna interrupted sharply. “He seems like a good guy, Cas. Dean hurt you, but don’t think everyone is like him,” she persuaded softly, reaching across the table to squeeze his arm.

Cas nodded. “Right. I know.” Looking up at Anna, he smiled. “Well, when he gets back home I plan on sending him my details and finding out exactly how close by he is. I guess we’ll go from there.”

Anna smiled encouragingly, before tilting her head slightly. “And the job?”

“I still don’t know.” Cas sighed. “Not all of my hesitance is to do with Dean. But I have to give the college an answer on Monday.”

“Well.” Anna grinned. “Maybe talk to Impala about it. He seems like he cares about you, supports you. And if you really do want a relationship with him, it could affect him in the future. But,” Anna cautioned, “make the decision for you, Cas. No one else. You have to start living for you.”

“Stop being so wise, Anna.” Cas scowled, but it was teasing.

Anna laughed, pushing back her seat. “Alright, Jack and I have to head out for our next house viewing. Think about the job, Cas. I was going to take Jack out for pizza after, so we’ll probably be late.”

Cas nodded, refocusing on his coffee as Anna called Jack down from his bedroom and ushered him out of the house.

The kitchen was quiet, and Cas took a minute to check his phone. He frowned down at his notifications, seeing a strange message.

 

> **Impala67:** I’m really hoping you’ll give me time to explain and won’t be mad at me.
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Explain what? Why would I be mad at you?
> 
> **Impala67:** You’ll find out in a second.

Cas frowned in confusion. What was Impala talking about? What was he going to find out in a second?

A sharp knock on the front door pulled his attention, and Cas reluctantly slipped his phone into the pocket of his low-slung pajama pants to go and see who it was. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to be presentable, but if anything he only made it worse. Shrugging, he pulled the door open.

On his doorstep, stood the Flash.

Cas blinked, his brain taking a long, sluggish moment to catch up as his jaw slowly slid downward. Realizing, after a moment, that he was just staring with his mouth open, he swiftly snapped it shut.

“Impala?” Cas ventured, sounding just as confused as he felt. “Is that you?”

The man in the red and gold superhero costume nodded and reached up to the headpiece of the body suit. He seemed nervous, his fingers twisting at the fabric for just a moment before he proceeded to pull it off.

Cas’s jaw dropped again. “Dean?”

Still clinging to the floppy fabric of the Flash mask, Dean twisted his hands together. “Yup,” he answered, with a small shake to his voice. “It’s me. Both of those are me.”

Cas blinked again, tilting his head to the side. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel right now, or what was happening, but something in his chest felt like it was sinking. It hurt.

“You… were you always…?” Cas trailed off and gestured vaguely at Dean.

“Please let me explain and don’t be mad at me,” Dean hurriedly interjected, echoing his words from the message he’d sent only a minute before. He stretched the red fabric nervously between his hands. “Please.”

“Please do explain,” Cas asked, feeling slightly hollow. “Because right now I don’t understand what’s happening or why you would—” Cas’s voice cracked, and he didn’t finish.

 _Why you would… what?_ He thought. _Lie to me? Lead me on, again? Make me fall for you and then stand me up, all in the same week, as different people?_

Dean’s face was panicked, his hands raising, calming, pleading. “I didn’t know, Cas. I didn’t know it was you until late last night. When you shared the painting. I swear I didn’t know.”

Cas nodded slowly. “So, it was always you. The man I—” Cas swallowed harshly, before shrugging, as it seemed pointless to be shy about it now, “—the man I was falling for was you all along. He never existed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, Cas, no—” he stepped forward quickly, right up to Cas. “God no. That’s not it at all. That person, that’s me. That’s who I am. The exact same person that was falling for you, too.”

Cas noted the faint flush beginning at the side of Dean’s neck, but he didn’t mention it or linger on it, more interested in what Dean had to say.

“I was put into your GISH team as a total fluke, Cas. It’s probably geographic, or something, I dunno.” Dean shook his head dismissively. “That part doesn’t matter. What matters is that everything we’ve talked about and shared since we met is true, Cas. Every word. I’ve been more honest with you than I’ve ever been with anyone.” Dean offered a tiny, hopeful smile. “Please believe that, if nothing else.”

Cas gave a tiny nod. He was feeling slightly dizzy.

Dean stepped forward another fraction, and for a second Cas thought that Dean was going to reach for him, but he didn’t. Instead he stood nervously in the doorway, dropping his eyes down to the feet of the tight, ridiculous costume he was wearing before he continued.

“There’s something I want to say that’s more important than that, though,” Dean said. He cleared his throat and looked back up, seeking out Cas’s eyes. “I definitely started to feel something for you, these past couple of weeks, Cas. But the thing is, I’ve been in love with you for years. Since we first met and you invited me over here…” Dean trailed off, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

“And you pretty much ran away!” Cas blinked, astonished and confused. “You couldn’t get away fast enough. For years, you barely spoke to me. You kept things so professional that I was too ashamed to even ask you about it, like I’d done something awful—”

“Because I thought you were _married,_ Cas,” Dean interrupted, cringing and covering his face with his hands. “I saw Anna, here, and I just… I assumed. God, this is embarrassing. I assumed that Anna was your wife, not your sister, and that Jack was yours.”

Cas realized his mouth was hanging open again, so he closed it.

“You have every right to be mad at me for being such a dumbass, Cas, you really do. It was only when I saw that picture of you last night that I realized who you were and everything started to click into place, and I realized that the guy I was falling for was actually the guy I was already in love with.”

Cas was overwhelmed as he listened. Dean’s words slowly sank in and began to click together, filling the gaps in the strange puzzle he’d been working on, unknowingly, for weeks. Or perhaps even years.

He didn’t know what to say, or how to begin telling Dean how he’d felt in turn, all this time.

So instead, he stepped forward, pushing into Dean’s space and backing him against the doorframe, and kissed him.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where we earn our explicit rating. Dean and Cas do discuss things in this chapter, but I've kept the smut to this one spot. So, if you wish to skip it, skip down to the end of the chapter for a SFW summary.

Dean was delirious, possibly from shock or embarrassment, though more likely from Cas’s breath-stealing kiss that had him backed up against the frame of the man’s front door, helpless and ecstatic.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d come up with the slightly questionable idea to come here, dressed as the GISH teammate Cas would recognize, then show him what was underneath. Cas’s pillowy, plush lips meeting his own felt better than anything he could have hoped for. Dean kept the kiss fairly chaste on his side, his mouth closed, just enjoying the lingering of Cas’s slightly dry lips. Cas didn’t pull away, their foreheads resting together, and their eager breathing gathered between them.

Cas pressed forward again, the second kiss smaller but no less warm. More kisses came, a staccato of lips and breaths, shared in a perfect balance between them.

“Sorry,” Cas whispered after a minute had slid by, as he softly breathed into Dean’s space. His hands rested lightly on Dean’s shoulders, his fingers sliding against the silky red material. “You said that you’d had feelings for me all this time, and I couldn’t resist,” he admitted, a warm blush spreading up across his neck.

Dean’s hands came up, his fingers tracing across the pink of the flush heating Cas’s throat. “Never apologize for kissing me.” Dean laughed quietly, sliding his arms around Cas as he ducked his head back in, pressing firm kisses of his own against Cas’s cheekbones. “I’ve dreamed of kissing you for years.”

A guiding hand led Dean’s mouth back to Cas’s, firm and insistent. Their tongues tangled, and the ridge of the door frame pressed between Dean’s shoulder blades as Cas’s eager weight pushed him back into it.

Dean licked into Cas’s mouth slowly, savoring the coffee and honey that graced his tongue. “Always wondered what that would taste like." He grinned against Cas’s cheek as he pulled back. "Coffee and honey.”

“You could have tried it.” Cas laughed, nuzzling affectionately into the side of Dean’s face, his arms sliding down to wrap tightly around his waist. “You can order it anywhere,” he pointed out, grinning.

“Nah,” Dean breathed, returning for yet another kiss. “I wanted to taste it on you.”

Cas laughed again, and Dean could feel his chest vibrating against him. He looked up, his bright blue eyes huge from so close, and held Dean’s gaze.

“You thought I was married, this whole time.”

Dean felt himself growing red-faced again, ducking his head down in embarrassment. “Yes.”

“You’re an idiot,” Cas responded, though it held no heat, only amusement. “That was really the only reason?”

Dean looked up, pulling his head back so that he could slide his hands up to cup the sides of Cas’s face and look at him seriously, though his lip still curled in an embarrassed smile.

“Cas, we’d known each other a little while at school, and I was already well aware that I was falling absolutely head-over-heels for you. You invited me over and I thought—well, I really hoped—that it might lead to something. Then Anna opened the door and I…” Dean averted his gaze down to Cas’s shirt for a moment. “It was like a punch to the gut. I didn’t know what to do, I thought I had it all wrong…” Dean sighed.

Cas closed his eyes for a moment, wincing as if he could feel Dean’s humiliation.

“The worst part was that the feelings didn’t go away,” Dean admitted, squeezing his eyes closed. “I tried to keep everything professional and respectful, and I was always ashamed of how much I didn’t want to.”

“But you did.” Cas smiled softly, reaching to lift Dean’s face back up. “I thought you were just playing games with me, but I see it differently now. You didn’t want to be the kind of person who hooked up with a married man, and you stuck by that even though you wanted to give in. That just makes me like you more, Dean. That’s… admirable, even if it was all just a huge mistake.”

Pulling Dean’s face close once more, Cas paused when their noses touched, his own flush coloring his cheeks. “I hope it’s clear that I really like you too, Dean.”

Dean laughed, rubbing their noses together. “I’m getting the idea. Maybe, uh…” Dean looked sideways, out onto the street, and eased his back up slightly from the doorway. “Maybe I could come in? I really don’t talk about feelings much, so that was kind of a lot, and people are staring at the dude in the Flash costume that you’re making out with in the doorway.”

Cas’s eyes followed Dean’s out to the street. There was, indeed, a nosy elderly couple who had completely given up walking their dog to stare at them. Cas smirked and turned back to Dean.

His eyes flicked slowly down Dean’s body and back up, taking in the tight, shining red fabric. His grin had a wolfish edge to it, and he slowly bit down on his bottom lip, just enough for Dean to catch it. “I wasn’t joking when I said I liked that costume,” he teased, one hand reaching forward to spread against Dean’s chest, tracking over the lightning bolt symbol. His fingers lingering, he stepped back into the house, creating space for Dean to come in.

Closing the door quickly behind himself, Dean crowded back into Cas’s space, more confident now. He leaned in, pushing Cas against the hallway wall and pressing their lips together again for a much deeper, more probing kiss. They wrapped around each other, lost in it.

Dean pulled back after a few minutes, gasping in a breath. He looked down at Cas, only the barest fraction shorter, taking in his gleaming, excited eyes and parted lips. “God you’re gorgeous, Cas. Absolutely,” he paused, punctuating the space between every word with a kiss, “fucking,” he breathed, “gorgeous.”

Tightening his arms around Cas, he trailed his lips from Cas’s mouth up to his ear. “Please tell me Jack and Anna aren’t here,” he whispered, grinning.

Cas’s laugh shuddered against Dean’s chest again, a deliciously addictive feeling. He was a little breathless as he replied, his eyes darkening, “They’re out looking at houses. We shouldn’t be disturbed for at least a few hours.”

“Oh, thank god,” Dean moaned gently, pressing Cas back into the wall as his lips began to travel down his neck. “Because I don’t want to traumatize them, and I’ve heard you have some tattoos I’ve been dying to see in person.”

Dean felt Cas’s cheeks pull into a grin against his temple as he mouthed at the soft, tan skin of Cas’s throat.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked breathlessly, though Dean noted with amusement that his hand had already slid down into Dean’s own. Cas ducked under the cage of Dean’s arms, pulling his shoulders from the wall and heading toward the stairs.

“Sure?” Dean laughed, though it was cut short. His mouth went dry as he got an eyeful of Cas’s ass, following up the stairs behind him. “Cas, not to be crude but I’ve been fantasizing about you for three whole years. I don’t think we could take this any slower if we tried.”

Cas paused to kiss him again at the top of the stairs. “I think I like it when you’re crude,” he said with a grin, before turning Dean around and giving him a little push through the first doorway on the left.

Dean stumbled into the bedroom with a breathless chuckle. He only glanced around very quickly; it was a nice room, with a lot of wood and warm, earthy tones, but there would be time to examine the décor more closely later. Right then, he wanted to conduct a more thorough examination of Cas.

Turning, he fisted his hand in Cas’s t-shirt, pulling him a little more roughly towards him. Cas came willingly. Any initial caution he may have had was long gone as he pressed up against Cas, every inch of his marble abs flush with Dean’s stomach, warm from chest to hip. Dean couldn’t help a tiny groan at the sensation.

Cas had stepped forward, knocking the back of Dean’s knees into the mattress as he pressed back into Dean’s lips once more, pillaging his mouth with a hot, silken tongue. Dean’s soft sounds were swallowed whole, and Cas spread one hand on his sternum, pushing him down onto the bed with a bounce.

“Fuck,” Dean closed his eyes for the briefest moment as his back hit the sheets, trying to regain control of himself. It was a futile endeavor as the mattress dipped, shifting under Cas’s weight. Cas crawled up the bed, hovering over Dean with one knee between his thighs.

“Dean,” Cas rumbled, his voice lower than Dean had ever heard it, “there are probably all kinds of things we should talk about before…” Cas seemed to lose his train of thought for a moment, dipping down to catch Dean’s bottom lip teasingly between his teeth.

“Yeah, you’re right, but…” Dean let his gaze track up and down Cas's body, everything he could see from his position below him. His eyes got caught on the sharp hip bones that peeked from over the top of Cas’s pajamas bottoms, revealed by his rucked-up shirt. “Jesus, Cas, look at you… how am I supposed to resist that?” he asked, genuinely helpless.

“I could say the same,” Cas gasped as Dean ducked his face under Cas’s jaw, teasing his tongue across his throat.

Dean felt Cas gulp against his lips.

“How about, I want to be with you, and I want you, and we can work the rest out later?” Dean murmured breathlessly, offering Cas the simplest way out.

“Yes,” was all Cas got out before lowering his hips, their groins pressing together.

Dean could feel the heat of Cas’s cock through the thin fabric they both wore, and any semblance of control they’d maintained was thrown out if the window. Bringing his arms up to wrap around Cas, Dean rutted desperately back up against him.

Cas grunted, low and guttural, as they thrust frantically against each other, finding an easy, if frenetic, rhythm between them. “Oh, Dean…” he managed, one of his supporting arms giving up trying to hold him above Dean. He tumbled down onto his chest, and they were nothing but an electric puddle of limbs and breaths and want, for as long as it took.

Which wasn’t long.

Dean keened out an embarrassingly high whine, burying his face in Cas’s neck as his body throbbed and tingled.

“Yes, love, yes…” Cas coaxed against his ear as he followed swiftly behind. “Oh, Dean, oh…”

Dean watched Cas’s eyes widen, somehow looking surprised despite their situation, and tilted his face up to kiss him through it.  “Yes, baby… that’s it…” he murmured into the kiss, sliding his hands up Cas’s body. He found his back, damp with sweat but still fully clothed, just like himself.

As Cas gave a long, shuddering exhale against Dean’s cheek, Dean couldn’t help but start to laugh.

Cas lifted his head enough to give Dean a quizzical look, which was just so adorable that Dean had to stop and kiss it off his face.

“Did we really just rut like horny teenagers and mess up our clothes?” Dean giggled again as soon as their lips were free.

Cas blinked, then tumbled into a weary laugh with him. “I, uh, I guess we did,” he agreed, sheepish.

“Well it’s alright for you,” Dean chided teasingly as Cas rolled off of him. “I don’t even have any other clothes with me, I left everything at my apartment before I came here.”

Cas gave another quick laugh before propping himself up on one elbow. “You can borrow clothes.” He grinned. “I can’t pretend I wouldn’t enjoy seeing you in something of mine,” he admitted wolfishly. His tone was playful, but there was a thread of possessiveness through it.

Dean liked it. He smiled, letting Cas know as much. “You want me to be yours, Cas? For everyone to see?”

Despite his likely sticky clothing, sex-hair, and flushed cheeks, Cas managed to give Dean a look that was somewhat shy. “Can you blame me? You’re beautiful, Dean. I’ve watched faculty and students alike throw themselves at you for years.”

Dean’s laugh was loud and clear in its total surprise. “No way, Cas. You’re not allowed to be the insecure one, here. The gorgeous, adored Professor Novak?” He took a minute to look Cas up and down with a slightly amazed smile. “I’ll have to beat off the hordes with a stick.”

Cas’s cheeks burned crimson as he admitted, “I’m aware of some of the things students say about me, but honestly, I’ve only had eyes for one person for a very long time.”

Dean moved his arm to the side, nudging against Cas with a fond smile. “Well… same,” he soothed. “But being a little possessive, in a healthy way, is pretty sexy. So, you go ahead.” He winked.

Cas nudged him back playfully, before pushing himself off the mattress with a reluctant sigh. He stood and moved off to the side of the room, ducking into the tiny en suite bathroom and returning with a damp cloth. He dug around in the dresser and pulled out a pair of navy pajama pants and a simple grey t-shirt, throwing them both to Dean and placing the cloth on the nightstand. “Here.” He smiled. “You can clean up. I’ll be right back.”

Cas ducked away into the bathroom to change his own clothes and freshen up.

Dean quickly stripped off the clinging, ruined costume and wiped himself down, shaking his head in amusement at his sticky boxers. Like a damn fifteen-year-old, he thought. He changed into Cas’s pants and t-shirt, the size not that far off, even if the looseness around the shoulders did make Dean think he should exercise a little more.

He lay back on the bed, taking a moment to breathe and adjust.

_Cas. Cas likes me. Wants me. Maybe even loves me._

Dean was still blinking up at the ceiling when Cas emerged from the bathroom, using damp hands to try and tame his wild hair. He stepped up to the side of the bed, and for a moment, just looked. Dean sensed the pause and turned to look at him, questioning.

Cas’s eyes were fixed on Dean, slowly gliding up and down while a shy, exhilarated smile teased over his features. “I can’t believe that Dean Winchester is in my bed,” he admitted, shaking his head.

Dean found himself flushing slightly, but ignored it, and reached out to take Cas’s hand and drag him down gently onto the mattress. “Would it be too much if I asked if you had any plans today?” Dean grinned. “Because I like it in your bed and staying here for the afternoon sounds like an amazing plan.”

Cas lowered himself down to lay next to Dean, on his side, tucking one of the pillows into the crook of his neck. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,” he replied.

In turn, Dean rolled onto his side and they just looked at each other, not touching beyond the clasped hand that had pulled Cas down to the bed. Dean’s thumb tracked slowly up and down Cas’s, stroking, and Cas’s fingers gently squeezed at Dean’s.

“Dean, I’m really sorry that I kept you at arm’s length, or tried, and that I never told you about Anna and Jack before I invited you over here. It never occurred to me that you might think that. I should have tried to talk to you after, but…” Cas grimaced slightly. “I thought you had rejected me. I thought you perhaps hadn’t realized what my intentions were to start with, and then when you did… well. I was embarrassed. Horrendously so.”

Dean leaned in, kissing away Cas’s words; nothing like the heated presses of lips that had drawn them up the stairs or locked them to each other while they came. It was just a soft, sweet press of affection, accentuated by Dean’s arm sliding around Cas’s waist, pulling him in close.

“C’mere,” Dean murmured into Cas’s lips, snuggling in close. They kissed again before Dean continued. “I’m sorry you ever felt like that. We both messed up. I definitely wanted you, Cas. There was no rejection in that sense… I think you’re amazing.”

“Well.” Cas bumped his nose affectionately under Dean’s jaw. “Likewise. You’re a wonderful man, Dean. We messed up then, but if you aren’t averse to being my boyfriend now, having gotten to know me through a different route…”

Cas reached his hand up, using two fingers of his right hand to guide Dean’s gaze directly to his. Speckled green and clear blue eyes locked, and the look Cas gave Dean penetrated far below the surface.

“Please let me tell you now, how very fervently I love you,” Cas murmured, an inch above his lips and somehow deep inside him. “I don’t want to waste any more time, Dean. I want you to know that. No mistakes, no misunderstandings. I lost you before… can I keep you now?”

Dean leaned his face forward, resting his forehead on Cas’s, bright red. “Jesus Cas, you’re letting your literature professor side show,” he teased. “Getting all poetic on me.”

Laughing, Cas flushed a little. “Yes, you’re right. Sorry.”

Dean grinned, shuffling in closer so that his body lay along Cas’s, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “Don’t apologize. I love it. I love you,” he amended, seeking out Cas’s eyes once more. “I’ve had more than enough time to be sure of that. I’m glad you want to keep me Cas, because you’re stuck with me now.”

Their lips met again, slowly, perfectly, not with the frantic passion they’d had before, though Dean quickly discovered he was getting hard again, regardless.

He’d have been embarrassed, if it wasn’t clear Cas was in the same position.

Cas tasted of fresh mint, and Dean pressed his face into the side of Cas’s neck after a minute, breathing deep for the full experience and finding himself lost in soft musk, cinnamon and something clean and airy. He couldn’t help but drag his lips across Cas’s throat, peppering small kisses down to his sternum.

The quiet whimper Cas gave in response was enough to spur him on, rolling Cas onto his back slightly so that he could get to his collarbone. Lathing his tongue across it, Dean slid his other hand down Cas’s side. It rested at his hip with his thumb trailing up just under the edge of his t-shirt.

Cas breathed out his name and Dean was gone, his lips lifting from Cas’s skin only for the moment it took to push his t-shirt up and off, before returning to the tanned expanse. He moved slowly, fully planning to taste and suckle every inch of Cas from neck to waist before they got any further.

To Dean’s delight, Cas let him; he lay still, fisting his hands in the blankets, uttering the occasional soft moan as Dean’s tongue massaged across his nipple or teased at the very bottom of his rib-cage. Dean trailed his lips across the darkly inked symbol that was tattooed on Cas’s chest: a star of some kind, with a circle of flame around it.

Cas pushed his hips up just a fraction, and Dean recognized the need for touch, for pressure, for something. He angled his body over Cas’s, pressing a leg between his thighs, guiding Cas to slowly, slowly rock up into Dean’s hip as his mouth continued worshiping everything it could find.

“Hey,” Dean murmured into Cas’s skin after a luxurious few minutes, “I want to see something…” Pressing his hands to Cas’s hips, Dean urged him to turn over.

Cas looked puzzled for a second, before understanding flashed across his features and he rolled onto his front, exposing the expansive tattoo that covered his shoulders and most of his back.

“Woah,” Dean breathed out, bringing his hand forward to dance across the exquisitely detailed feathers that framed Cas’s spine. “This is stunning, Cas. It must have taken hours.”

Two dark, fully feathered wings spread across Cas’s back, the detailing on the inked plumage so intricate that it almost looked as if the wings rustled as he breathed.

“It did,” Cas replied into the pillow. “Several sessions of work. But it was worth it. I always wanted to fly,” he offered, as if that was the perfect explanation.

Dean dropped a quick kiss to the point on Cas’s back where the wings met, then pulled back, so that Cas could turn back over.

Smiling, Dean resumed the serious business of using his mouth and hands to turn Cas into a pliant puddle on the bed.

When Dean reached the waistband of Cas’s clean pajama pants, Cas’s hand came up to his shoulder. He pushed back, pulling Dean up towards him and rolling them to switch places. Dean helped, eager, losing his shirt before he lay back into the sheets.

Cas’s licks were interspersed with soft nips as he worked down Dean’s body, using the pads of his thumbs to roll at Dean’s nipples in response to his hitched breaths. Kissing his way across the softness of Dean’s stomach, Cas paused to smile into the gentle swell of skin next to his belly button.

“God, you’re perfect, Dean…” he lowered his hand to graze his thumb across Dean’s abdomen as he kissed. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” Cas admitted into his hip.

Dean couldn’t help but thrust up slightly at the endearment, but there was only air, and it wasn’t enough. “Come up here,” he gasped out. “Need to kiss you,” he clarified, his hands pulling at Cas’s shoulders.

Cas moved to lay between his legs, and for several more minutes that’s all there was; the slickness of lips, the rolling of hips, quiet sighs and the rustling of fabric. The rolled around as they made out, lost like they were just discovering every feeling for the first time.

Slowly, finger by finger, Dean’s hands eased down across the feathers on Cas’s back as he moved on top of Dean. Dean traced every rib on the way to the elastic of his pants, taking the scenic route to every destination. When he flattened the palms of his hands against Cas’s ass, a groan ripped from Cas’s mouth, breaking their kiss.

Rolling to his back, Cas’s head dug back into the pillows and he lifted his hips and held them up, a wordless sign. Dean complied without taking his mouth from where it landed back at Cas’s throat, pushing down his pants and kicking them off the bed, underwear still tangled within them.

He could feel how hard Cas was from the way the cotton pants caught on the way off, the heat of the solid bar of flesh he’d revealed now pushing against Dean’s thigh distractingly.

“Fuck, I want you in my mouth so bad,” Dean mumbled against Cas’s shoulder before sliding down, moving himself to the end of the bed so that he could look down at Cas’s naked form.

He’d pictured Cas naked many, many times, but somehow, he’d underestimated everything. The marble rhythm of his chiseled abs, the tiny freckle above his nipple, the crispness of the exquisitely inked tattoo across his left pectoral muscle. Dean took a minute to take it all in, his gaze drifting across the sharpness of Cas’s hipbones, leading down to dark, dark curled hair that he just wanted to sink into; Dean wanted to tangle his fingers in the thick patch, and press his nose into it, dreaming of feeling the head of Cas’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

Dean started kissing his way up Cas’s shaft, trailing the very tip of his tongue up the underside until he reached the spot just beneath the head, flattening his tongue to massage against it.

“Oh…” Cas made it more of a noise than a word, pulling fistfuls of the bedsheets into his hands.

Dean felt Cas’s thighs tense on either side of his chest, and he couldn’t help but grin. He looked up from under his eyelashes, to see Cas looking down at him, his eyes wide and lust-blown.

Dean smiled up at him, coyly, before swiping his tongue across the head of his cock just once. At Cas’s answering shudder, Dean opened his mouth and sucked the tip inside. He let the wet heat of his mouth settle around Cas for just a moment, before he took in the rest, holding Cas’s eyes the whole way down.

“Fuck…” Cas hissed, the first time Dean had ever heard him use the word. Dean buried his nose down into Cas’s abdomen, taking him right to the back of his throat. Still holding his gaze, Dean relaxed his throat, bobbing up and back down, before swallowing hard. “Fuck, _Dean_ ,” Cas practically shouted.

Dean’s eyes moved to see the whiteness of Cas’s knuckles as he grabbed at the sheets, and he felt the trembling in his muscled thighs around him. One of Dean’s hands slid over Cas’s leg, moving over the tattoo of the Pope that he’d joked with Angel about only a few short days before. Slowly, circling his tongue around Cas’s cock without moving his head, Dean reached to take one of Cas’s hands, guiding it to Dean’s hair.

Cas came up off the bed slightly, resting back on his elbows, looking down at Dean. He tangled his hand in Dean’s sandy hair, taking a fistful of it, though not pulling or tugging at all until Dean’s hands moved under his hips. He pushed up at Cas’s pelvis firmly, guiding him, saying with his eyes what his occupied mouth could not.

Cas moaned out loud, tightening his grip on Dean’s hair as he thrust up, fucking into Dean’s mouth firmly. The muscles under the Pope rippled as Cas pounded up into the wet heat, vocal and lost to the sensation.

Dean gagged, a soft choking noise coming from him as Cas slammed his cock up into Dean’s throat. Dean knew his eyes were wide, and he could feel the sweat accumulating between his shoulder blades as his arousal crept up yet another notch.

“Oh god, Dean,” Cas groaned, his words the harmony to the rhythm of his hips and the melody of Dean’s gasps and grunts. Dean’s hands at Cas’s hips encouraged him on, and for a few minutes Cas fucked mercilessly into his face, his legs shaking around Dean as he struggled against the overwhelming sensation.

“No…” Cas gasped after a minute, pulling himself sharply back. The tip of his cock, glistening with saliva, rested on Dean’s bottom lip, a beautifully obscene feeling as Dean hummed around it.

“Don’t want to come yet, love?” Dean smiled, dropping a kiss to the tip before he crawled up the bed, laying next to Cas once more.

“Not yet,” Cas agreed breathlessly, pulling Dean in for a deep kiss. His hands trailed down Dean’s sides to his hips, pushing at the pajama pants Dean still wore. Dean kicked them off quickly, craving the feeling of Cas pressed against him, head to toe.

They didn’t rush, returning to kissing while Cas’s hands explored, cupping Dean’s balls in his palm and rolling them gently. His other hand slid down to wrap around Dean’s length, taking his time with long, lazy strokes rather than anything frantic.

As Dean’s breathing picked up, Cas pulled back, looking longingly at him. “More?” he asked quietly.

Dean nodded. “Definitely.” He dived back in to plunder Cas’s mouth with his tongue languidly before saying anything else. “How do you want to do this, angel?” he breathed against Cas’s lips.

Cas grinned softly at the nickname before he responded. “I’m not fussy, but right now… god, I want to be inside you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Dean couldn’t help but push his hips forward, thrusting faster into Cas’s hand. “Condom?” he questioned. “I haven’t been with anyone in years but…”

Cas nodded, leaning to the side somewhat reluctantly to dig around in his nightstand.  
Rolling back after a moment with a condom and lube in hand, Cas pulled Dean back into his chest and they went back to kissing, grinding against each other in a slow rhythm.

When Dean had finally had his fill of Cas’s taste—for now—he reached to grasp at the lube. “Would you like to do the honors?” he asked, his grin heated. “Or would you prefer to watch?”

Cas closed his eyes for a second, groaning shamelessly. “If you want me to last more than ten seconds, you need to stop saying things like that.” He grinned, reaching for the lube from Dean’s hand. “I’d like to, if that’s okay. But perhaps next time…” He paused as they shared indulgent smiles, acknowledging that there would be a next time. “Next time I’d love to watch. To have you spread out beneath me, fingering yourself open while I jerk off above you, just trying to hold on till you’re done…”

Dean’s breath left him in a whoosh. “Alright Cas, now you’re the one who needs to stop saying things like that,” he teased, parting his legs and lifting one thigh to settle over Cas’s hip. Moving his arms to wrap around Cas, he buried his face into his neck again, breathing his musky scent in deep. “I’d like that, a lot. But now I want to feel you do it. Open me up for you,” he persuaded, just below Cas’s ear. “Prepare me for that beautiful cock of yours.”

Dean felt the small shudder that passed through Cas at his words, but he didn’t respond. In fact, they were silent for long minutes, only kisses, sighs and breaths passing between them as Cas slicked his fingers and worked into Dean.

Dean shifted uncomfortably a couple of times, but Cas was patient, waiting out the stretch before trying another finger, then another. Everything was slow and leisurely, their cocks softening a little between them as their attention turned elsewhere.

Cas pumped his fingers firmly, rubbing at Dean’s prostate to ease the burn of the third finger. “You feel exquisite,” he whispered into Dean’s ear, the first sound for minutes that wasn’t the slick of lube or the soft slap of flesh. “I can’t wait to get inside you…”

“I’m ready,” Dean whined softly. “Please.”

With a quiet whimper from Dean, Cas eased his fingers back out of Dean’s ass. “How would you like me?” he asked Dean, trailing kisses across his cheekbone.

“Just like this,” Dean answered, pulling Cas flush against him, both still laying on their sides.

Cas nodded, reaching down to pull Dean’s legs up to his waist. “Good,” he breathed, sliding his hands back to Dean’s ass and pulling his cheeks apart. “Want to see you,” he clarified, leaning in to kiss Dean again.

It was a tight space, leaning in to kiss with Dean’s thighs folded up between them, but totally worth it. Dean could feel the head of Cas’s cock slide against his hole, hardening again fast as Cas teased back and forth.

There was a fumbling moment while Cas rolled the condom on, but then the sensation of his blunt tip between Dean’s ass cheeks returned.

“Go on, angel,” Dean encouraged, reaching down to take his own leaking cock in hand. “I’m yours,” Dean added with a grin, watching the way Cas’s eyes devoured him at the reminder.

“Yes,” Cas practically purred with delight, nudging his cock against Dean’s tightest ring of muscle. “Yes, you are mine.” he grunted slightly, reaching down to rub and push more of the lube into Dean before pushing harder. The head of his cock popped past Dean’s entrance and Dean cried out, but it was a good sound. Cas slid slowly, steadily home, until his hips were tight against Dean’s ass. “And I’m yours,” he finished breathlessly, boneless against Dean for a moment.

Dean brought his arms up and held Cas against him for a minute, tightening his legs to pull Cas ever deeper.

“Fuck,” he panted into Cas’s neck. “So full…” he gasped. “You feel amazing.”

Cas just nodded; not seeming to trust himself to speak as he adjusted to the sensation.  
Dean trailed his fingers up and down Cas’s spine, giving him time. “Okay?” he asked after a few more seconds, trembling as he struggled not to grind his own hips down and against Cas.

“Yes, yeah. Cas nodded again, quickly. “Just… just need a second.” His eyes squeezed shut, his voice a deep growl against Dean.

Dean laughed, giving Cas a few more moments before he slowly rocked his hips.

“Fuck,” Cas growled out, for the second time that afternoon. He pulled back out just a little, before easing back in, then repeated the motion, a little faster each time. “You feel so good…” he said, reaching down to slide his arm under Dean’s knee, pulling his leg up at a sharper angle.

Dean gave out a strangled yell as the tilt of his body drove Cas’s cock over his prostate. “Oh fuck, Cas, fuck me please,” he begged, tilting his forehead back into Cas’s own. “Please.”

The pace they took wasn’t punishing, instead coupling with long, firm thrusts that drew noises from them both. They watched each other, learning, kissing, taking in the way they moved together and memorizing each other’s little tells and clues.

They had lasted longer than Dean had initially thought they’d manage when it became just too much, and he tilted his face down onto Cas’s shoulder. One arm around Cas’s neck, the other under his arm so that he was clinging desperately to Cas’s shoulder blade, fingers splayed across the ink wings, he whimpered into his ear. “I’m so close, Cas, I can’t…” He gulped. “Not gonna manage any longer,” he admitted, his muscles beginning to shudder and shake around Cas inside him.

“Come on then,” Cas encouraged breathlessly, the arm that wasn’t supporting Dean’s leg holding him close as they rocked on their sides, causing the mattress to protest loudly. “Come for me, love… let me feel you flutter around my cock, Dean, let me see…”

Cas pulled back, and Dean could see that Cas was right on the edge too, blinking sweat out of his eyelashes as he locked eyes with Dean.

Cas’s final few thrusts threw Dean over the edge at full pelt, shuddering wildly as he spilled all over both of their stomachs. Cas chased him even as the last few spurts were still dripping down the side of Dean’s cock, every thrust a grunt as Dean felt him fill the condom.

Still inside Dean, Cas released Dean’s leg to cup his face, pulling him into a deep, drugging kiss. “I love you,” he gasped, sliding out of Dean reluctantly as he softened.

“I love you, too,” Dean replied, closing his eyes as he leaned into Cas’s shoulder, still clinging to him.

Dean felt Cas shift as he pulled the condom off and reached down for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulling it up over them. Other than that, they didn’t move for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary for anyone who wishes to skip the smut: Dean and Cas work out some of their long-held frustration, and also manage to communicate a fair bit in between. They are finally on the same page, admit that they are each in love with the other, and decide to take their relationship forward from here.


	12. Chapter 12

Cas certainly wasn’t at his sharpest in the mornings, but when he woke and the bed was empty, he had enough wits about him to at least register it as  _ wrong _ .

He rolled to the side, brushing his hand over the unoccupied space beside him. It was cool; no one had been in it for at least a few minutes. Blinking away the worst of the fuzzy, sleepy feeling, Cas sat up.

The previous day with Dean had been something amazing. After Dean had arrived so suddenly on his doorstep and they’d spent an hour or two physically working through some of their stored-up desires, they’d napped for several hours. It had been blissful, Cas thought, just resting and being able to wake up in Dean’s arms, their legs tangled together. Once they’d got up, they’d reluctantly dressed and decided to go out and get dinner together. They walked to the Roadhouse, and over cheeseburgers and a few drinks, they talked. They discussed the past, and the future, and made doubly sure that they each knew where they stood and what they expected.

They both seemed to have decided that miscommunication would never drive them apart again. After a lovely evening, they’d headed back to Cas’s house and spent even more hours tangled together in bed, before falling asleep.

It was more than Cas had even dared to dream of.

So, where the hell was Dean now?

Stretching, Cas let out a low grumble, shuffling around to retrieve his pajama pants from the floor. Forgoing a shirt or socks, ignoring that his hair probably looked like that of a surprised cartoon character, he groggily made his way downstairs.

Reaching the hallway, he paused as he heard voices in the kitchen.

“I understand,” Dean was saying. “Really, I do. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust and respect. Thank you for letting me explain, at least.”

“I’m glad you worked it out,” came Anna’s voice. “We just want Cas to be happy. That’s all.”

_ Oh God, _ Cas thought with some amusement.  _ Poor Dean. _

Anna and Jack hadn’t been home when he and Dean had left for dinner the night before, and they’d both been long asleep by the time they’d returned home. Dean must have been corned by Anna this morning, unsuspecting.

Cas was torn between going in to rescue his boyfriend from his sister’s clutches, and taking a moment to eavesdrop.

“I promise you,” Dean was protesting, “the only thing I want is for Cas to be happy. I couldn’t have him in my life before, but now that I can, he’s going to be the most important thing in it, I swear to you. I’ll move Heaven and Earth to make him happy.”

Cas felt warmth flooding his chest as he paused, one hand raised to the wall next to him, to smile to himself. It felt so good to hear Dean talk about him in such a way, after three years of only discussing work-related topics.

“What about the job?” Anna was asking, her voice still holding a hint of suspicion, though no open hostility.

There was a pause, and Cas’s chest constricted. He was about to step forward and carry on into the kitchen when Dean responded.

“That’s his choice, Anna. It’s good, given everything, that we only have a couple of weeks left to work together. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay as his TA, now. But as for where he wants to work, if he wants to stay at KSU or go to Idaho… that’s his choice. I’ll stand by what he wants to do.”

“You don’t have an opinion over whether your boyfriend moves out of the state?” Anna questioned, slightly incredulous. “I don’t believe that.”

“I do have an opinion,” Dean responded carefully, and Cas could tell he was getting frustrated, “but it’s not my decision to make. He hasn’t told me that, you did. If he wants my thoughts, he’ll ask for them. If he makes a choice and I don’t like it, we’ll deal with it. If you think I’m gonna—”

Cas stepped in the kitchen, making sure to be loud.

Anna looked up guiltily, and Dean’s head jerked to the side, his green eye’s immediately locking onto Cas’s as he entered.

“Morning,” Cas croaked calmly. Speaking wasn’t usually his thing before nine thirty. He turned to look at Dean, smiling unsurely. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

Dean smiled apologetically, dropping his gaze to gesture to the counter next to where he stood. “Sorry, I came to make you some coffee and cook you breakfast. Figured I needed to get some caffeine in you if I wanted conversation before lunch.” His grin was soft and fond, in a way Cas had always wanted but never seen.

“Mhmm,” Cas made a noise of agreement, stepping forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s cheek with his own version of the same warm, fond smile. “You certainly know how to get on my good side.”

Cas busied himself glugging down a good half of the coffee while Dean and Anna looked awkwardly at each other across the kitchen. The drink, Cas noted, was already lukewarm.

“How long have you been keeping poor Dean hostage, Anna?” Cas grumbled, squinting across at his sister.

“Not long.” Anna looked a bit shifty. “A sister has a right to the third degree when the dude who spooked and ran suddenly shows up in your kitchen one morning,” she defended, scowling.

Cas drained the coffee cup before he responded. “So, Dean explained?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, he told me about the whole mix up, which—” She grinned awkwardly, obviously finding it amusing, “—eww to the husband and wife part, first of all, and second of all, he’s an idiot.”

Dean made a huffy, defensive noise but didn’t argue.

Cas refilled his coffee mug from the percolator and balanced it on the edge of the plate of now-cold eggs and toast that waited on the counter. Cold eggs weren’t exactly tasty, but these eggs had  _ cream _ in them, he could tell, not like the crappy scrambled whites Anna made. No way was he not eating them.

Lifting up the plate, he turned to link his fingers with Dean’s as he moved across the kitchen toward the door, pulling Dean behind him.

“Well then, you can save the rest of your cross-examination for another time, and let me take my new boyfriend back to bed,” Cas chastised gently.

Anna wrinkled her nose, clearly not enjoying the mental image. “Sorry, Cas. You know I mean well.” She smiled a little, before fixing Dean with a firm look. “Remember what I said.”

Dean nodded, a little too quickly to be casual, and followed Cas obediently out into the hallway.

“What did she say?” Cas asked, raising an eyebrow as he balanced the plate and cup in one hand, enjoying the simple act of holding Dean’s hand with his other too much to let go.

Dean waited until they were back in the bedroom to reply. “Just the usual sister stuff, I guess. Or at least, the same as I used to say when people dated my little brother.” Dean grinned. “Won’t find the body, you know the deal.”

Cas chuckled, placing his breakfast down on the nightstand. “I wouldn’t take it too lightly. Anna’s the real firecracker of the family. All my brothers are secretly scared of her,” he said, grinning across at Dean as they tucked themselves into the bed.

They leaned against the headboard and Dean raised his arm, inviting Cas to snuggle into him while he drank his coffee.

Cas felt Dean’s lips press down into his wild, uncombed hair, and sighed with contentment. Before he got too cozy though, he didn’t want to forget one thing.

“So, Anna told you about my job offer?” he asked quietly, pulling a sip from his mug.

He felt Dean nod against his temple. “Yeah. She did,” he replied, carefully neutral.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cas offered. “That should have been my place to tell you, not hers. She put you in an awkward position.”

Dean shrugged his free shoulder and leaned back a little so they could look at each other. “It’s okay. She’s looking out for you. I figured you’d talk about it, if you wanted to, when you were ready or you’d made a choice.”

Cas nodded. “Well, it didn’t come up last night, but I did want to discuss it with you anyway. It’s not just going to affect me, now.”

Dean opened his mouth, clearly to protest, but Castiel spoke over him.

“Your opinion matters, Dean, okay? The reason I hadn’t said anything yet is that I’m really conflicted over whether I want to take it,” he explained. With a hint of embarrassment, Cas’s free hand came up to join the other in holding his mug, pressing the lip of it against his chin. “Even before our recent developments, I didn’t know if I really wanted to go to Idaho. I’ll confess that even then, at least a little of my hesitance was because I didn’t want to leave you,” he admitted.

Dean let his carefully unbiased expression go for just a moment, so he could grin teasingly at that. “Cute,” he mumbled down into Cas’s hair. “Absolutely adorable.”

Cas huffed grumpily. “I’m too old to be adorable,” he grumbled.

“I disagree.” Dean kissed his way down the side of Cas’s face, before shifting to slide his arm out from behind Cas. He sat up a little, so that he could face Cas properly. “But in all seriousness, Cas, you should do what’s right for your career. Which would be to take the step up the ladder that they’re offering you. But… that’s assuming that’s even the career path you want to take,” he responded carefully.

Cas was quiet for a minute, before he turned to face Dean also. “What are you doing after summer school is over? You had a few interviews…”

Dean laughed, but it was an awkward sound. “Yeah, uh, those didn’t go so well. I, uh, don’t actually have anything lined up yet.”

Cas blinked. “Nothing? How were you going to pay your rent?”

“I guess I could always go back to working at the salvage yard or something,” Dean replied, shrugging awkwardly. “I used to. Before you convinced me I had a brain for books,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood back up.

Cas frowned, but looked thoughtful. They sat quietly for a minute before he spoke up again. “Dean, what did you mean, assuming that’s the career path I want to take?” he asked, tilting his head quizzically.

“Well,” Dean smiled a small, encouraging smile, “I seem to remember the erstwhile Angel of Thursday confessing to me that what he  _ really _ wanted to do was write children’s books.”

“Oh,” Cas ducked his gaze. “I forgot I told… well, you… that.”

Dean dipped down to capture Cas’s gaze again. “Would you not have told me, if you’d known it was me?” he asked, looking concerned and a little confused.

“No, it’s fine that you know. I just… other than online, I’ve never told  _ anyone _ that,” Cas confessed. “My family was always very conservative in their opinions of what was acceptable for us to pursue, and I don’t think I ever let go of that.”

Dean nodded. “I understand. No one ever told me I was smart; that was always my brother’s role in the family. Until I met you, anyway.”

Cas managed to sound both fond and chastising at the same time as he said, “You  _ are _ smart, Dean. You could do my job better than I could. I wish you’d said something before now. I could have asked Chancellor Michael to consider you for something at the college…” He sighed. “You can be quite stubborn and silly at times, Dean.”

Dean grinned. “Look who’s talking.”

Playfully, they knocked knees and reached out to twine their fingers together.

“Let’s have another coffee,” Cas suggested, “and go get you some clothes. We can look over my offer from Idaho together, and decide what we want to do about it. And then if there’s a discussion to be had about what me moving means for us, we can do that after. Then we can look at jobs for you, too,” he added, smiling. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a lot of great communication there, Cas,” Dean teased. “I think we might be getting pretty good at this.”

Cas laughed, nudging Dean’s knee playfully once more. “Come on. Let’s drive over to your apartment and grab you some clothes, then come back. I want to introduce you to Jack, and Anna will kill me if you’re bare-chested and in my pajama pants when I do it.”

“There’s always my Flash costume,” Dean suggested helpfully. “It’s a little crusty, but—”

Cas silenced him by whacking him with a pillow. “That’s disgusting, Dean,” he said seriously, despite the little twinkle in his eye.

 

***

>  
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Hello, everyone!
> 
> **Impala67:** Hey guys
> 
> **jscribbles:** Hey! Where have you guys been?? Radio silence for DAYS dudes, not cool
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Yeah, you turned in your items and then dropped off the face of the earth for a week…
> 
> **SOBS:** Missed you guys
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Well, actually we have some news
> 
> **jscribbles:** OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE TOGETHER
> 
> **PieDarling:** @jscribbles OMG chill lol it’s not that
> 
> **Impala67:** Well actually…
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** !!!!
> 
> **SOBS:** Uh what
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Yes, Impala and I met. Which, actually there’s a whole funny story to that, but the end result is that we are, indeed, together.
> 
> **jscribbles:** I knew I should have put money on it, fuck
> 
> **PieDarling** : AWWWWWWWWWW
> 
> **jscribbles:** Congrats guys, that’s awesome
> 
> **SOBS:** OMG YESSSS
> 
> **Impala67:** Sorry for disappearing. We had a lot of stuff to sort out, and we both had to go back to work, and there were all kinds of conversations to have
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Oh? But everything is good, right?
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Very good :)
> 
> **PieDarling** : AWWWWWW
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** We actually decided to made some big changes. Impala is interviewing for a teaching job at KSU tomorrow… my old job, actually
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** And I’m taking a year off
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** To try my hand at writing children’s books.
> 
> **jscribbles:** Woah! DUDES. That’s so cool!
> 
> **SOBS:** UGH I’m so happy for you guys I could cry
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** That’s great Angel, congrats both.
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** How are you taking a year off though? What about your bills?
> 
> **Impala67:** Actually, he’s going to live with me :) <3
> 
> **jscribbles:** Aww guys, Impala used extra emojis. My heart. <3
> 
> **PieDarling:** Wow, so you’re moving in together already? That’s super quick
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Not as quick as you’d think… turns out we’ve known each other for three years and we already tried to date once.
> 
> **jscribbles:** The fuck?
> 
> **SOBS:** Alright. I’m gonna get popcorn. Anyone else?
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** Yeah, this sounds a snack story. I’ll be right back.
> 
> **PieDarling** : I’ll grab some water.
> 
> **Impala67:** Okay, everyone back?
> 
> **SOBS:** Yup!
> 
> **Amandacanzo** : Yeah
> 
> **jscribbles:** So ready for this story. So… Angel and Impala, go!
> 
> **AngelofThursday** : Okay, well it began three years ago…
> 
>  


	13. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**One Year Later**

 

 

> **jscribbles:** Everything in place?
> 
> **Moose:** Yes, we’re almost there!
> 
> **Amandacanzo:** I’m on the edge of my seat
> 
> **PieDarling:** I CAN’T BREATHE
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** This is incredibly nerve-wracking.
> 
> **FallenMilton:** We gotta go, team. Await pictures!

 

***

 

The mall was fairly quiet early on a Thursday morning, so Dean didn’t get as many odd looks as he would otherwise have done, strolling across the upper level with Cas, both of them already in costume.

“Probably should have carried the feet,” Dean noted thoughtfully, waddling his way past Hot Topic.

“Hmm, yes,” Cas noted, looking down briefly. “That might have been wise. But we’re almost there now, at least.”

The two walked ahead, capes flapping, as Anna and Sam hurried along behind them. Anna was tapping away at her phone, while Sam hauled a heavy camera bag and tripod.

The group stopped outside a jewelry store, regrouping quickly.

“Everyone ready?” Dean asked, looking around at Sam, Cas, and Anna.

“Yup!” Anna chirped cheerfully.

Sam and Cas exchanged a look that Dean didn’t quite catch, but they both nodded. Cas held up his phone, reading off the screen.

“Okay then. Item number one hundred and sixteen, Bilbo, Gandalf, Gollum, or another Lord of the Rings character in a jewelry shop, ring shopping, of course.”

Sam pulled the fancy, professional camera he’d brought with him from the black bag that was slung over his shoulder and headed into the store.

“I called ahead,” Cas continued talking as they all followed, “so they should be expecting us.”

The petite lady behind the counter was clearly  _ not  _ expecting a redhead, a photographer, and two Hobbits. Luckily, the manager was nearby and gave them an amused thumbs up as he hurried over.

“I’ve got this, Becky.” He grinned, giving Cas a wink. “Why don’t you guys—or should I say Fellows!—get yourselves set up with the camera, and I’ll pick out a ring you can use as a prop.”

Dean blinked in surprise, but then but caught the man’s eye and smiled. The store workers were being incredibly accommodating, more so than he’d genuinely expected of them, given that they were dealing with a bunch of crazy GISHers who weren’t going to buy anything.

Sam opened up the legs of the tripod quickly, setting it up as best he could in the small space. “We’ll get out of your way as fast as we can!” he called after the retreating manager.

Cas stepped up next to Dean in front of the glass counter, and they both exchanged little smiles as they neatened up each other’s hobbit costumes.

Noticing their looks, Anna rolled her eyes. “You two are so soft and perfect. Stop it. You make the rest of us feel bad that our lives aren’t as flawless as yours,” she teased.

Sam grinned down at the tripod as he speedily screwed the camera into place on top of it. “Oh, I don’t know, Anna. I’m pretty happy,” he said. “My practice is starting to pick up business, and things are going really well with Eileen. Maybe we just need to find you someone, huh?”

Anna tossed her hair, snorting delicately. “Oh no, thank you very much. Jack and I are more than happy by ourselves—I certainly don’t need a guy to be happy. Although…” A little twinkle appeared in her eye. “I do think Jack has a crush on a girl at school. But I’m trying to be cool about it and not force it out of him.” She sighed. “Being a mom is so hard.”

Sam laughed, and the two continued their quiet conversation while Sam tinkered with the camera settings.

Cas, smoothing out Dean’s cape across his shoulders, smiled as he tilted his head to the side, indicating their siblings. “It’s nice that our families get along so well,” he mused.

“Yeah, now they’ve forgiven us for breaking each other’s hearts for years,” Dean laughed. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

Smiling softly, Cas leaned forward to press his lips to Dean’s cheek. “Me too,” he murmured contentedly into the faux beard hair.

The store manager coughed politely from the other side of the counter, interrupting them with an amused smile. “Are you ready, sirs?”

They replied in the affirmative, and the store owner offered out a ring on a tray. “Will this one work?” he asked Cas. “I just finished cleaning it,” he added, smiling.

Cas grinned, picking it up. “Oh yes, this will do just fine.”

Dean craned his neck looking over at it. “That’s an awesome ring,” he noted. “The real Pippin and Merry would be proud.”

The ring was a heavy-looking gold band. It looked like it had something inside it, an inscription or something, and Dean momentarily thought that the store owner was taking a big risk, trusting them with a ring that had been engraved for a customer.

“Ready?” asked Sam, leaning over the camera.

They all nodded.

Cas and Dean struck a few poses with the manager, looking over the ring as he held it out to them, nodding at each other in agreement and joking around pretending to be enthralled by the ring.

It was fun, and in a couple of minutes they were done.

“One more item checked off!” Dean announced happily, as Cas turned to thank the store manager once more.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam called.

Dean turned, stepping over toward the camera. Halfway there, Sam raised a hand, waving dismissively, looking down at the camera screen once more, repositioning it slightly for some reason.

“Nevermind, I got it,” Sam said.

Dean turned, looking back toward the counter, the manager, and Cas.

And there Cas was, down on one knee, ring in hand, in his hobbit costume.

 

***

 

> **FallenMilton:** Congratulations, @AngelofThursday and @Impala67!!
> 
> **PieDarling:** PICTURE! @Moose where is the picture!
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** Did it happen? Tell us everything!
> 
> **Impala67:** My boyfriend is officially the biggest dork in Middle-Earth ;)
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** _ cough _
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** _ Husband _
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Better get practicing. <3
> 
> **Impala67:** We will practice a lot of husbandly things
> 
> **Impala67:** Later, when everyone has gone home ;)
> 
> **FallenMilton:** Gross. So glad I don’t live with you guys anymore.
> 
> **Impala67:** Wait, so you ALL knew about this?
> 
> **jscribbles:** Are you kidding? We were the ones convincing him it was a good idea
> 
> **jscribbles:** Your boy was freaking out
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** I was not!
> 
> **PieDarling:** YES YOU WERE
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Maybe a little.
> 
> **andimeantittosting:** That’s cute.
> 
> **Impala67:** Aww, you were nervous, honeybee? Adorable :P
> 
> **AngelofThursday:** Oh shut up, all of you.
> 
> **Moose:** Transferring from the camera now, guys!
> 
>  


End file.
